


Hero for the Times

by jamelia116, juli17ptf, Voyager_Virtual Season_7-5_Staff_Writers (jamelia116)



Series: Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 [25]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First Contact, Holodecks/Holosuites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 05:54:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20420996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamelia116/pseuds/jamelia116, https://archiveofourown.org/users/juli17ptf/pseuds/juli17ptf, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamelia116/pseuds/Voyager_Virtual%20Season_7-5_Staff_Writers
Summary: AsVoyageris escorted through an inhabited area of space, the ship finally establishes direct contact with Starfleet. The Doctor has grand plans for using his communication time with the Alpha Quadrant. And, yes, the carpets finally get cleaned.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Paramount and CBS own the Star Trek franchise lock, stock, and torpedo barrel. We make no claim of ownership for any of the characters (human or alien), starships, or technobabble, as first developed by the Great Bird of the Galaxy himself, Gene Roddenberry, over 50 years ago, which continues on to this day. A multitude of fanfiction writers are very grateful that Gene came up with an adaptation of "Wagon Train," to which he appended, "to the Stars." We toddle along in his giant footsteps.
> 
> In this episode of our Voyager Virtual Season 7.5, our staff writer Julie has fashioned a different scenario for the Doctor's adventures in holoprogramming than the one that appeared in the broadcast series' episode, "Author, Author." She also created a fascinating and original alien species to interact with the Doctor and our crew. 
> 
> We wish to acknowledge and thank Brannon Braga, who came up with the original story of "Author, Author"; Phyllis Strong & Mike Sussman, who wrote the teleplay, and all the cast and crew for their contributions to the success of that episode of _Star Trek: Voyager,_ the series. But we wanted to make the Doctor...well, you'll just have to read on to see what we wanted to see from the Doctor in that one. Our entire staff hopes you will enjoy this new take on a holodeck episode.

**Hero for the Times**

** by Julie**

**Prologue**  
  
_"Personal log, Stardate 55559.1, EMH reporting._  
  
_"Last night Mister Neelix threw his official 'Welcome to the Alpha Quadrant' party to celebrate the fact that Voyager crossed into the Alpha Quadrant during our last jump. That was due to Lieutenant Carey's improvements on the slipstream technology that allowed the ship to remain in the slipstream for three thousand light years instead of a mere one thousand. Though the quadrant divisions are arbitrary, and we are still some distance from Federation space, simply being in the Alpha Quadrant has cheered the crew considerably. I share in their elation, but it was the captain's announcement last night that elicited my greatest gratification. After several failed attempts to establish direct contact between Voyager and Starfleet, Lieutenant Torres and the estimable Lieutenant Barclay have finally overcome the problem with the slipstream displacement effect. The method of contact involves a phased tachyon beam tapping into a quantum singularity's faster-than-light transference effect...well, what it really means is that I can finally talk directly with my publisher and finalize a contract to publish of my holonovel._  
  
_ "This development does leave me limited time to add the final polish to 'Hero for the Times,' though I must admit with all modesty that there is little room for improvement. Due to several requests I've also scheduled a premiere of my holonovel for tomorrow night. I suppose the crew does deserve to see my work before the general public, if only to be able to say they knew me when._  
  
_ "In the meantime, I have acquiesced to Lieutenant Paris's suggestion that he act as my 'beta' and give me his opinion of 'Hero for the Times' before I unveil it to the crew. My holonovel is intended to appeal to the broadest cross section of the general public, and I suppose no one has more understanding of common tastes than Lieutenant Paris. Given his past holoadventure forays, I expect he will have nothing but praise for my creation._  
  
_ "End log."_  
  
*  
  
Smoke from the mangled consoles filled the bridge of the battered starship. The captain pulled herself up from the deck and pushed away the strands of hair that had escaped from her top bun. She reached through the haze for the comm pad on her chair, her fingers stretching to make contact.  
  
"ECH to the bridge! Emergency! ECH to the bridge!" the captain rasped.  
  
Another hit rocked the ship and the captain was thrown against the helm console, but her desperate plea was answered, as moments later, the turbolift opened and the Emergency Command Hologram exited. He strode confidently to the captain's chair, stepping over the moaning form of the Ops officer, unfazed by the smoke and debris around him.  
  
"Helm, execute maneuver Alpha Beta Delta Phi Epsilon Tau Omega Four Dash Two Six Eight One," The ECH ordered as he began to press pads on the captain's console.  
  
"Yes, sir," the helm officer replied as he flipped an errant lock of hair back from his sweaty, smoke-streaked forehead.  
  
"Tactical, prepare to fire on my order."  
  
"Aye," the tactical officer rumbled, his hands moving rapidly over his console.  
  
"Get ready...FIRE!"  
  
The _USS Valorous_ executed a sharp turn as the phaser banks fired, and the large, black, pyramid-shaped ship that had been pounding the _Valorous_ exploded into an even larger ball of fire and debris. The _Valorous_ rocked in the shock wake of the other ship for several moments before everything stilled again. As the haze began to clear on the bridge, various crewmembers picked themselves up from the deck. Helmsman Don London brushed his mussed blond hair into a semblance of order, and touched a small cut on his forehead as he retook his seat. Tactical officer T'Ubark growled as he stood, baring his sharp Klingon teeth and ignoring his dislocated right shoulder. Captain Fayray helped Ops officer Derry Whim to his feet.  
  
"Are you all right?" the captain asked, as Whim swayed alarmingly.  
  
"Fine, Captain," Whim murmured as he staggered back to his console, wiping the blood from his face so that his spots were again visible.  
  
"Derry's symbiont has been through much worse in its past eight lives," London said, flashing Whim a wicked grin.  
  
The captain approached the command chair. "ECH, once again, you've saved the day."  
  
The ECH vacated the command chair gracefully. "Thank you, Captain." He held out his hand, but Captain Fayray grabbed him in a motherly hug.  
  
"That was a great maneuver, sir," London said with admiration.  
  
"You have the heart of a true warrior," T'Ubark rumbled.  
  
"Indeed," the captain agreed fervently. "Who knew having a holographic officer onboard would be so critical to our survival, and the survival of the Great Galactic Confederation? You're a hero like no kind ever before. What would we do without you?"  
  
"Perish?" the ECH suggested, as Fayray finally released him and took her command chair.  
  
"Captain?"  
  
Fayray turned to her Bolian first officer, Shocklattee, who was looking at her with an expectant expression.  
  
"Oh, yes." The captain turned her gaze to the viewscreen. Then she closed her eyes and furrowed her brow in concentration. "I sense...no more anger, hatred, or intent to destroy. I sense only...nothingness."  
  
"No kidding," London muttered. "They're dead."  
  
Captain Fayray patted Shocklattee's shoulder. "Thank you as always for your silent support, Number One."  
  
"I protested this mission," Shocklattee reminded her.  
  
"Right. Well, it doesn't matter since we have the ECH." She flashed the ECH a blinding smile. The turbolift opened again, and a small figure burst out. "Ah, Lieutenant Mors," the captain said. "How are the engines?"  
  
"Lieutenant Mors-Whim," the chief engineer reminded her. "And you should know how the engines are doing, Captain."  
  
"Of course." The captain closed her eyes again. "They are...purring with contentment."  
  
"Thanks to the EEH." Mors-Whim Alana walked toward the Ops station. "He stopped that warp core breach two days ago, and his reconfiguration of the warp matrix is the reason they survived this latest encounter with the Dork with no serious damage."  
  
"Hey, Alana," Derry Whim said, tweaking her earring as she stopped next to him. They kissed quickly.  
  
Though Captain Fayray smiled indulgently, T'Ubark gave them a look of disgust. "Romance does not belong on a starship bridge."  
  
"Oh, chill out, T'Ubark," London said, earning a scowl from the Klingon.  
  
_"Sickbay to EMH."_  
  
The ECH exchanged looks with the captain. "Onscreen."  
  
A statuesque and completely bald woman appeared on the viewscreen. Her expression was serene. "There are several injured crewmen in Sickbay requiring treatment."  
  
"Life-threatening injuries?" the ECH asked.  
  
"No. It is merely an assortment of broken bones and superficial wounds. However, I do need your attention regarding another...urgent matter."  
  
"An...urgent matter. Of course." The ECH winked at her. "I'll be right there."  
  
The viewscreen cleared and the ECH turned to the Fayray. "I must get to Sickbay immediately, Captain. Debin urgently requires my presence."  
  
The ECH flickered, and a moment later, his command gold uniform changed into medical blue. He strode to the turbolift, then halted as the applause sounded behind him. The EMH turned and raised a hand in acknowledgment. Then he stepped into the turbolift and the door closed on his benevolent, smiling face.  
  
"So ends this thrilling adventure of the Universal Starship _Valorous_ and the amazing exploits of its hologram turned hero," a voice-over announced.  
  
"Computer, freeze program."  
  
The scene froze as requested, and _Voyager's_ doctor turned to Tom Paris. "That's it. What did you think?"  
  
Tom looked at the motionless figures on the simulated bridge. Then he met the Doctor's expectant gaze. "It was definitely...eventful."  
  
The Doctor smiled broadly. "Yes, it is quite rousing, isn't it? Bold, adventurous, yet with a certain amount of insight. The characters are well drawn, don't you think? And the hero is especially engaging."  
  
"If you do say so yourself?" Tom asked dryly. "Doc, have you noticed that these 'fictional' characters of yours bear a strong resemblance to _Voyager's_ crew?"  
  
"You think so?"  
  
Tom rolled his eyes. "The heroic hologram looks exactly like you."  
  
The Doctor shrugged. "I do admit, there are some resemblances."  
  
"Some?!"  
  
The Doctor continued as if he hadn't heard Tom's incredulous rejoinder, "You're aware of that old adage--write what you know. I did draw upon my own experiences, but this crew isn't really similar to _Voyager's_ crew. The captain is a Betazoid, and the first officer is a Bolian--"  
  
Tom snorted. "So the captain reads minds, and Chakotay is blue." Even Tuvok was recognizable under that Klingon forehead. He had to admit B'Elanna looked cute with those wrinkles on her nose, but that wasn't the point. "They _look_ like the real crew. Then there are the names. Don London, for instance. Even if the name takeoff wasn't obvious, he could be my twin."  
  
The Doctor studied the frozen helmsman, then shook his head. "His hair is longer, and blonder. He also has more of it."  
  
Tom frowned. "Don London" might wear his hair longer, and blonder--a bottle job from the looks of it--but he certainly didn't have more of it. "I noticed he also has a tendency to make irreverent comments."  
  
"True," the Doctor agreed unexpectedly. "But he's actually funny."  
  
Tom glared at the Doctor's smug smile. "The point is--"  
  
"That he's not like you. For one thing he's not married. He's quite the ladies' man, in fact, with a woman in every port."  
  
As if he hadn't had that reputation in the past. Tom shook his head. "Doc--"  
  
"And in my holonovel the chief engineer chose to marry the ops officer."  
  
Tom followed the Doctor's gaze. Mors-Whim Alana was practically wrapped around Derry Whim, their lips millimeters apart. The sight annoyed him. "B'Elanna would never use a hyphenated name--"  
  
"Ah, but that's just it!" the Doctor said triumphantly. "She's not B'Elanna. These people _aren't_ the _Voyager_ crew. Any resemblance is only coincidental."  
  
Tom decided to try a different tack. "Fine. Maybe you're right, Doc."  
  
The Doctor's eyebrows rose at Tom's acquiescence. "I'm glad you see my point."  
  
"I do. In your holonovel, the emergency hologram does every job on the ship better than the highly trained crew, while they all sit helplessly, waiting for him to save the ship with his unbelievable range of talents. How ludicrous is that?" Tom clapped the Doctor companionably on the shoulder. "It _is_ complete fiction, and a comedy to boot."  
  
The Doctor's eyes narrowed. "You might recall that I have saved this ship a time or two, including while I was in command. As I have proved quite frequently, holograms are beings of immense versatility."  
  
"Not to mention immense egos," Tom said. Before the Doctor could reply, he added, "It might make more sense to have a crew with some expertise, instead of a bunch of bubbleheads."  
  
"Bubbleheads?" the Doctor repeated Tom's unfamiliar phrase. "I've portrayed the _Valorous_ crew as merely mediocre, to give the emergency hologram the opportunity to display his best qualities. Which, I must point out, is a common fictional technique. In fact, it's the classic presentation of a superhero. Consider Earth's Superman, or Bajor's Katu San, or, dare I mention your favorite, Captain Proton."  
  
Damn. He should have seen that coming. Still, it wasn't the same thing. Captain Proton was a private role-playing holoadventure, not a holonovel for mass consumption. "Maybe," Tom conceded. "But Captain Proton bears no resemblance to reality. The similarities in your novel are obvious, and I doubt the crew will see it as flattery."  
  
"I suspect the crew will understand the concept of creative license."  
  
Tom wasn't so sure. "I guess we'll find out tomorrow night at your premiere."  
  
"Yes we will," the Doctor agreed heartily. "In the meantime, I have a few minor details to refine. Now that we'll have face-to-face contact with the Alpha Quadrant, my publisher will be eager to see the finished product. Despite your criticism, I would like to solicit your opinion on one last matter, Mister Paris. What do you think of my holonovel's marketability?"  
  
Tom started to make a snide comment, but the Doctor was looking at him intently, obviously deferring to his greater experience, a rare occurrence. Tom looked again at the scene before him. Despite similarities the _Voyager_ crew might find unflattering, the implausibly narrow escapes, campy villains, and often overblown dialogue, the holonovel escaped the surest death stroke of any story. It wasn't boring. In fact it was fast-paced and funny, if sometimes unintentionally. It was also filled with larger than life, if derivative, characters, like the brain-sucking Dork.  
  
The public would eat it up.  
  
Tom sighed, and spoke the truth. "I predict a bestseller."  
  
*


	2. Act 1

  
**Act One**  
  
Janeway looked around at her assembled officers after the final briefing report had been read. They'd been attentive, as attentive as they could be, considering the news that had been announced last night. She put them out of their suspense. "Regarding the faster-than-light communication..."  
  
Everyone smiled, though none so broadly as Harry Kim.  
  
"Captain, the singularity we're using to direct the tachyon beam will allow us to remain in direct contact for twenty-three point four minutes a day," B'Elanna said.  
  
"That's all?" Harry asked, sounding a little disappointed.  
  
B'Elanna nodded. "That's actually a large amount of time. If we were still in the Delta Quadrant, the transmission window might be as short as seven or eight minutes."  
  
"We'll happily take whatever we can get," Janeway said. "Now, for the specifics...four crewmembers per day will be given five minutes of direct communication with their families, and the final three plus minutes will be used for official briefings with Starfleet. The computer has randomly assigned numbers one through one hundred forty-three to each member of the crew, and that will be the order in which you'll talk to your families. Your numbers will be posted to your Personal Message file at sixteen hundred hours. Commander, if you can make that announcement to the rest of the crew?"  
  
Chakotay answered, "Yes, Captain."  
  
"We'll be home in a couple of months. This FTL communication is a little superfluous."  
  
Harry gave his best friend a horrified look. "Bite your tongue, Tom!"  
  
"We cannot be certain that the rest of our journey will be without incident, Mister Paris. It is possible our arrival will be unexpectedly delayed."  
  
Harry switched his annoyed look from Tom to Tuvok.  
  
"I think we are all eager to talk to our loved ones, regardless." Janeway smiled. "After almost eight years, I know I am. Now, if there are no other matters--"  
  
"Captain, our supply of fresh foodstuffs remains at a marginal level. At this moment, the replicators are at full power; however, once we use the slipsteam again, they will be unavailable for several days. If we are unable to resupply in the next few days, it may be necessary to implement rationing before we re-enter the slipstream."  
  
The captain nodded at Tuvok's observation. Targeting their exit from the slipstream in sparsely populated areas of space when possible was a necessary security precaution to avoid potential conflicts when the ship's systems--including defense systems-- were temporarily compromised. It did, however, tend to limit their access to supplies. During the last period between jumps they hadn't found a single class M planet where they might resupply, let alone any trading outposts or other ships. "I will consider that proposal, Tuvok," Janeway said. "If there are no further--"  
  
"Actually, Captain, I did want to remind everyone that the premiere of my holonovel is tomorrow night."  
  
Since the Doctor had mentioned it several times this past week, Janeway doubted anyone had forgotten. She knew the Doctor had been feverishly working on his holonovel ever since B'Elanna had announced the imminent success of the FTL project. "I'm sure none of us will miss it, Doctor," she said. There was a general, if not exactly enthusiastic, murmur of agreement.  
  
"You are all in for a very memorable experience," the Doctor assured them.  
  
B'Elanna rolled her eyes, and Tom looked anywhere but at the rest of the senior officers. Janeway recalled that Tom had mentioned something about giving the Doctor feedback. She wondered if Tom had already seen it--  
  
"I have a brief announcement too."  
  
Janeway looked at Chakotay, startled. He hadn't said anything to her.  
  
"Beginning this evening at seventeen-hundred hours, the carpets will be cleaned."  
  
Janeway's mouth dropped slightly open, and everyone else stared at Chakotay.  
  
"*All* of them?" Tom finally asked.  
  
"All of them," Chakotay replied. "I've worked out a schedule on the computer to ensure that the cleaning will be as nonintrusive as possible. Crew quarters will be cleaned while the occupant or occupants are on duty. I'll make a shipwide announcement to that effect, and remind everyone to remove any clothing or small items you don't want sucked into oblivion from the floors."  
  
"How long is this going to take?" B'Elanna asked.  
  
"Three days," Chakotay said. "The cleaning schedule is filed in the general bulletin board, if you want to view it. I've put Ensign Ehsani from Services in charge of monitoring the process. You can contact him or myself if you have any concerns or questions."  
  
No one spoke for several seconds, until Janeway finally said, "Dismissed."  
  
"I have a question," Harry said to Tom and B'Elanna as they moved to the door. "Why now, after seven years, and when we're due to get home in a couple of months and turn the ship over for a refit?"  
  
B'Elanna shrugged, and Tom replied, "Maybe the captain wants to give the ship a cosmetic lift before we arrive."  
  
Except the captain didn't know about it. Janeway ignored the momentary pang the words "turning the ship over" had given her as she watched the senior officers depart. All except Chakotay. She turned to him once the room cleared. "So, you finally decided to clean the carpets?"  
  
Chakotay grinned. "Better late than never, don't you think? I wanted to do it several months ago, but we ended up on New Hope. This is the first time since then that the replicators have been at full capacity."  
  
"I see."  
  
"I wanted to make sure it is done right, so I replicated a Dyson Cleanmaster Five-thousand. It's self-automated, with independent suction tubes to get the dirt out of every nook and corner; a fluid evaporator; and a molecular converter to recycle everything. It even has its own force field to keep anyone from walking on the carpet until its dry."  
  
"Sounds impressive," Janeway said. She knew nothing about carpet cleaners, so a Dyson whatever it was five thousand didn't mean anything to her. "When the job is finished, I plan to go over every centimeter of the ship with white gloves. I expect to be unable to find a speck of dirt."  
  
Chakotay grinned at her imperious tone. "Don't worry; you won't find even a nano-speck."  
  
Janeway nodded, keeping her smile to herself as they walked out of the briefing room together. She felt Chakotay's gaze on her and looked quizzically at him. His expression was curious and a little sly.  
  
"So you have white gloves, huh?"  
  
Janeway dashed whatever use Chakotay might have in mind for a pair of white gloves. "It was just a figure of speech, Commander."  
  
*  
  
Eighty-seven.  
  
Harry shook his head as he walked toward the Mess Hall. He'd had such high hopes when he'd accessed his PM file, only to discover he'd been assigned number eighty-seven on the FTL list. That meant he wouldn't get to talk to his family for three weeks. Heck, they'd almost be home by then.  
  
"Hey, Harry."  
  
Harry nodded to Joe Carey, who had just come around the corner. He was smiling broadly.  
  
"How'd you do?"  
  
"Eighty-seven," Harry said.  
  
"Sorry," Joe said sympathetically.  
  
Harry shrugged. "How'd you do?"  
  
"Number six."  
  
"That's great, Joe," Harry said, and he meant it. Joe had been away from his wife and kids for over seven years. No one deserved the good fortune more.  
  
Joe's smile reappeared. "Thanks, Harry. I've got to get down to Engineering with this report. See you later. Oh, and watch out for the force field."  
  
Harry heard Joe's hasty warning behind him, but he was already turning the corner. Before he could stop he walked smack into a shimmering blue force field. There was no shock, just the sense of hitting a wall with his face, which was hardly more pleasant. Harry uttered an oath and stepped back, disconcerted for a moment at having his way so unexpectedly blocked. Then he saw the large green carpet cleaner in the middle of the field.  
  
Harry scowled at the machine as it plugged along silently, with several of its suction tubes moving along the baseboard like arms on an octopus. One would think a corridor traveled as heavily as this one would be scheduled for cleaning late at night. So much for the carpet cleaning being virtually "nonintrusive."  
  
Harry took the narrow path the machine had so generously allowed along the far wall. A few moments later he walked into the Mess Hall, a scowl still on his face.  
  
The place was busier than usual. It looked like most of the first shift had decided to eat dinner here. The captain and Commander Chakotay were at a table with Tuvok, and he saw Tom and B'Elanna at a far table with Naomi and Sam Wildman. Jenny Delaney waved to him from another table, and he raised a hand in return as he got in line behind Sue Nicoletti and Amanda Lang.  
  
"Thirty-six isn't too bad," Amanda was saying, as she accepted a steaming bowl from Neelix.  
  
"Not at all," Sue agreed. She noticed Harry behind them. "What number did you get, Harry?"  
  
"Eighty-seven."  
  
"That's two ahead of me," Sue said as she took her bowl. "I guess we'll be talking to our families on the same day."  
  
Harry nodded and watched Sue and Amanda walked away.  
  
"I'd trade with you, Harry, but my number is one hundred-twelve."  
  
Harry turned as Neelix handed him a bowl of some sort of meat and tuber stew. He decided not to ask. "That's okay, Neelix. Who are you going to talk to?"  
  
"I've received a couple of letters from entrepreneurs who are interested in helping me open a restaurant when we get back. I guess word of my culinary skills has reached the Alpha Quadrant."  
  
Neelix was beaming. Harry just muttered a noncommittal, "Uh, huh."  
  
"I've decided to talk to one of them and discuss terms."  
  
"Good luck with that, Neelix."  
  
"Thank you, Harry. Enjoy your dinner. Good evening, Ensign Vorik."  
  
Harry moved out of the way so Neelix could serve his next customer. He looked up and saw Tom waving a hand, motioning him over.  
  
"Hi, Harry," B'Elanna said as he approached. "Have a seat."  
  
Harry sat down next to Naomi, who was holding Miral on her lap. Miral was playing with a plastic spoon and chattering to herself.  
  
"So what number did you get?"  
  
Harry frowned at Tom. "Is that all anyone's going to talk about now? The captain should have posted the list on the public bulletin board so everyone could satisfy their curiosity."  
  
"Geez, sorrrry," Tom said, holding up his hands in surrender. "You don't have to answer."  
  
"Eighty-seven."  
  
"That's not so bad," Naomi said. "My mom got number one hundred, and I got one twenty-six."  
  
"I got ninety-one," B'Elanna said.  
  
Harry looked at Tom, who didn't jump to volunteer his number. "What about you, Tom?"  
  
"Ten."  
  
"Ten?" Harry echoed. Tom didn't even look excited about it. "Congratulations."  
  
Tom didn't seem to notice Harry's surly tone. B'Elanna, however, gave him a sharp look.  
  
"Just think, you get to talk to your family in three weeks, Harry," Naomi said, as if that fact was a cause for celebration. "I'm really excited to talk to my dad. I didn't expect to even get this chance until we got home. Waiting just makes the anticipation even better, and besides, it will give me time to think of all the things I want to say to him, and to ask him."  
  
Harry looked at Naomi's wide smile and shining eyes. Great. Shamed by a teenager.  
  
"Harry, I'll trade numbers with you."  
  
Harry stared at Tom. "You will?"  
  
"Sure. I know how much you want to talk to your parents, and they to you."  
  
Harry noticed Sam and Naomi looking at Tom with mild surprise. B'Elanna's gaze on Tom, however, was piercing. Tom avoided looking at her.  
  
"I'm sure your parents are just as eager to talk to you, Tom," Harry said.  
  
"Probably. But, like Naomi says, waiting just makes the anticipation even better."  
  
"Tom--"  
  
"Really, Harry," Tom said, interrupting B'Elanna. "I don't mind trading at all."  
  
Harry could see he didn't. He knew Tom and his father had been exchanging letters, but face-to-face contact was something different. Maybe Tom had cold feet. B'Elanna's irritated look told Harry she was thinking the same thing.  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, Tom. Your parents want to see you and to meet B'Elanna. And I know they must be dying to get their first look at their granddaughter. I can wait until my turn."  
  
B'Elanna gave Harry a grateful look. Tom shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was no big deal. "Okay. I just thought I'd offer."  
  
"I have to get back to the biolab and check on some results." Sam said. She squeezed Tom's shoulder lightly as she stood, clearly understanding the undercurrents of the conversation. "Naomi, don't you have an assignment to finish?"  
  
Naomi nodded and looked regretfully at Miral, who was busy banging the plastic spoon on the table. Then she transferred the baby into B'Elanna's arms. "Bye, Mirrie," she whispered, using her pet name for Miral. Miral smiled at her. "Don't forget about tomorrow, B'Elanna."  
  
B'Elanna smiled. "I won't."  
  
"Naomi's turn to babysit," Tom informed Harry, as Sam and Naomi departed.  
  
Harry knew Naomi was completely taken with Miral, but who wasn't? He smiled at his goddaughter, who was reaching for another piece of silverware. Just looking at her cherubic face was enough to lift the gloom from anyone's heart. Tom's parents would adore her.  
  
"We'd better go too, Tom. It's almost Miral's bedtime."  
  
Tom nodded and took Miral as B'Elanna asked Harry, "Are you still available at the end of the week?"  
  
"You bet." Harry never missed his own chance to babysit. He waved goodbye to his goddaughter, and she waved back at him, giggling over her father's shoulder.  
  
Once they were gone, Harry sighed. He'd really wanted to accept Tom's offer, but he was glad he hadn't. Three weeks was a long time to wait, but he'd been waiting this long already, so what was another twenty-two days? It wouldn't be so bad--  
  
Harry jumped when his commbadge beeped.  
  
_"Gilmore to Kim."_  
  
Harry smiled. "Hey, Marla."  
  
_"I'm not interrupting your dinner, am I?"_  
  
"Yeah, but around here that's usually a welcome interruption," Harry joked.  
  
Marla laughed softly. Harry really liked that laugh.  
  
_"I get off shift early tonight. I thought you might want to get together for a bit."_  
  
"Sure. What time?"  
  
_"About ten?"_  
  
"Okay. My quarters? If you're hungry, I can whip you up a replicated feast."  
  
_"I just had a sandwich, but by then I might be ready for coffee and dessert."_  
  
Harry grinned. "Cafe latte and Crème Brûlée it is."  
  
_"Mmm."_ Marla nearly purred over the comm line. That was a favorite combination of hers, as he well knew. _"I'll definitely be on time. See you then."_  
  
"See you," Harry echoed as she signed off, glad he wouldn't have a chance to sit alone brooding in his quarters tonight. It occurred to him that he didn't know what number Marla had drawn on the FTL list. She was close to her sister and eager to see Kaylyn again, despite whatever else she might face when they got home. Harry had tried to convince her that the captain would make everything right for all of them, but he knew Marla never quite believed him.  
  
Harry began to eat his stew quickly. He'd let it get cold but hardly noticed; he was too eager to get back to his quarters and prepare for Marla's arrival. He hoped she had gotten a low number, so she could talk to Kaylyn soon. Maybe a heart-to-heart with her sister would help make the shadows that sometimes crept across her eyes go away.  
  
*  
  
_A hint of jasmine? Or maybe Betazoid mist blossoms?_ Janeway thought, as the turbolift closed behind her. Whatever the trace of scent that lingered on her bridge, she could tell the carpet cleaner had been here during the night. But she had other things to think about right now.  
  
"Report."  
  
Tuvok responded before she'd seated herself in her captain's chair. "Captain, we have detected a planetary system on long-range sensors. The fourth planet is Class M. We are still too distant to determine if it is inhabited."  
  
"How long will it take to get there?" Janeway asked.  
  
"Four days."  
  
They were due to attempt the slipstream again in four days. That would likely be delayed a day or two if they found a civilization willing to trade or an uninhabited planet with edible vegetation. But the delay would be worth it, no question. "Keep monitoring the system, Tuvok. Mister Paris, alter course to intercept."  
  
"Aye, Captain."  
  
As Tom punched numbers at his console, Janeway sat back into her chair and relaxed, her hands still wrapped around the warm cup of coffee she'd only just started to drink in the Mess Hall before she'd been summoned to the bridge. She took a long gratifying sip.  
  
"Good day so far, Captain?"  
  
Janeway smiled at Chakotay. "It's starting out that way, Commander. It will get better if this class M planet turns out to be a bread basket for us."  
  
"The crew is in a very good mood, knowing they'll be talking to their families soon."  
  
Janeway nodded. She was very glad to see her crew so happy. They certainly deserved it. "It will be another four weeks before I talk to my family, but I'm looking forward to it."  
  
"You didn't do so well in the draw either, Captain?" Lieutenant Kim asked.  
  
"Ninety-nine," Janeway said. She'd already heard where her senior officers and most of the crew had placed in the draw. That kind of news traveled faster through the ship than _Voyager_ was moving through space. She was happy that Tuvok had drawn a low number, and Tom too. She knew Harry had to be disappointed at his draw, but he seemed cheerful this morning in spite of it. "If nothing else, my high number proves that there are no extra perks for being captain."  
  
Chakotay grinned at her rueful comment. "Maybe I should have a talk with the computer about that."  
  
Janeway chuckled. "Yes, maybe you should."  
  
"I'll trade numbers with you, Captain."  
  
Startled, Janeway looked at Tom. His expression was earnest. "Lieutenant Paris, are you trying to score extra points with me?" she asked, her tone sharp.  
  
Tom looked confused for a moment, then he smirked. "Yeah, I'm hoping for a pay raise."  
  
"No go, Lieutenant," Janeway replied dryly. She'd been kidding, of course. For all his brashness and occasional irreverence, Tom wasn't a bootlicker. "You'll have to make do with the same rations as everyone else." Then she said more seriously, "I _am_ anxious to talk to my mother and sister, but no more anxious than you must be to talk to your family."  
  
Tom shrugged. "We've been writing back and forth for a year now. We'll see each other in a couple of months if all goes well, so this really isn't any big deal."  
  
"Perhaps, perhaps not," Janeway said. She knew how eager Admiral Paris was to meet his daughter-in-law and see his new granddaughter. But he was even more eager to see his son again. "Thank you for the thought, Tom, but the draw was fair. I can wait." Before Tom could do anything more than nod, she added, "By the way, the Doctor has requested your presence in Sickbay today at thirteen hundred hours."  
  
"I thought the FTL window didn't open until fourteen-thirty."  
  
"Fourteen twenty-nine to be exact. It seems the Doctor needs time to prepare himself."  
  
Tom rolled his eyes. "Right."  
  
"Tom, are you going to tell us what the Doctor's holoprogram is all about?"  
  
Tom shook his head. "I'm sworn to secrecy."  
  
"Come on, Tom. Just a hint about the general plot? Is it a comedy? Mystery? Romance?"  
  
"Sorry, Har. You'll just have to wait and see."  
  
"A surprise can be an enjoyable thing, Lieutenant," Chakotay said to Harry.  
  
"Oh, yeah."  
  
Tom's drawled comment was low enough that Harry couldn't hear him, but Janeway did. She'd been a little leery about what the Doctor might have cooked up, given his flair for the dramatic; but the irony in Tom's voice made her wish momentarily that she had somewhere else to be tonight.  
  
"Captain, a ship has just appeared on our sensors."  
  
At Tuvok's curt announcement, the relaxed atmosphere on the bridge evaporated, and everyone turned quickly to their stations.  
  
"The ship is of unknown design and origin," Harry said, to no one's surprise. Though they'd made it to the Alpha Quadrant, they were still too distant from the Federation to encounter any known races. "It's large, about five times the size of _Voyager_, but the weapons appear to be of the standard defensive variety."  
  
"The ship's course indicates it may have originated from the class M planet we detected on our long-range sensors," Tuvok added.  
  
"It's the only planet out here," Tom noted.  
  
"Tuvok, as soon as we are in range, initiate hailing frequencies."  
  
"We are in range...now. However..." Tuvok looked up. "They are hailing us, Captain."  
  
Janeway exchanged a quick glance with her first officer. "Open a channel."  
  
After a moment, the starfield on the front viewscreen winked out, replaced by the visage of two humanoid beings standing on a ship's bridge. They were both slender, with longish faces and dark hair elaborately styled in a braided fashion on top of their heads. Their pale skin had a slight greenish cast, and their eyes were a startlingly brilliant gold. The tunics they wore were similar, but with slightly different insignia. Their facial expressions were grim. The slightly shorter of the two spoke first.  
  
"I am Repaas, captain of the _Maruuk_, representative of the Shaal'ra. You are approaching our territory."  
  
"Greetings, Captain Repaas. I am Kathryn Janeway, captain of the Federation starship _Voyager_. We are returning home from a very far distance. We are simply passing through this area. We mean you no harm."  
  
"We see few visitors in our territory, Captain Kathryn Janeway."  
  
Janeway wasn't sure if he was referring to the isolated position of their system, or if he meant they allowed few to cross their territory. "We respect your boundaries, Captain Repaas. We simply request passage, and perhaps an exchange of supplies."  
  
"Passage is allowed under certain conditions," Repaas said. "However, we have specific rules about trading with other species."  
  
"As do we," Janeway replied. "We don't wish to interfere with your culture in any way. We are low on food supplies, and I would interested in negotiating a limited trade."  
  
Repaas' stern, almost bored expression became alert. "Do _you_ have a trader?"  
  
Janeway supposed that label might fit Neelix. She'd willingly follow whatever proprieties were required to facilitate relations. "Yes, I do."  
  
"Perhaps we can do business, Captain Kathryn Janeway. We prefer to negotiate in person."  
  
"That can be arranged," Janeway said. "You are welcome to come aboard _Voyager_ to discuss the terms."  
  
Repaas nodded. "That will be acceptable. At present course and speed we will rendezvous with your ship in...four point six hours. Until then, Captain Kathryn Janeway."  
  
"We look forward to"--Janeway paused as the image on the viewscreen blinked out--"meeting you."  
  
"Not the most friendly greeting," Tom commented.  
  
"At least they showed no hint of hostility," Chakotay said, and Janeway nodded in full agreement.  
  
"Captain, I will need to prepare security measures."  
  
"Very well, Tuvok." Janeway knew how seriously Tuvok took the presence of visitors on _Voyager_, but she also knew he found it preferable to sending a _Voyager_ contingent to an alien ship, where his ability to provide security was limited.  
  
"Guess this was a good time to clean the carpets after all," Chakotay said.  
  
Janeway gave her grinning first officer a stern look, though she couldn't keep her lips from twitching. As Tuvok left his station and headed for the turbolift, she turned to Harry. "Lieutenant, keep scanning the planet. The more information we can gather about the Shaal'ra, the easier it will be to negotiate a trade agreement."  
  
"Yes, Captain."  
  
"Lieutenant Paris, keep the _Maruuk_ on constant monitor status."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
Janeway didn't expect any trouble or surprises. Her instinct told her Captain Repaas was being sincere. But on this journey, they'd learned to take nothing for granted.  
  
*  
  
"Ah, Mister Paris." The Doctor greeted Tom the moment he walked into Sickbay. "Good to see you."  
  
Tom stopped short just inside the door. Good to see you? It was 1302 and the Doctor wasn't chastising him for being late? "You okay, Doc?"  
  
"Certainly," the Doctor replied cheerfully. "There are no patients at the moment, and I finished the monthly inventory this morning. I also filed the cross-vaccination research. Don't worry about the lab reports on my desk. I'll take care of those when I get back. You're welcome to access my music system. Just keep it low enough so you can hear any calls that come in."  
  
No inventory to do, no reports to file--and he was welcome to use the Doc's music system? Tom shook his head. "Doc, you _sure_ you're okay?"  
  
The Doctor didn't answer Tom's repeated question as he strode toward the door. "I'll be in the holodeck, doing some last minute adjustments to my holonovel before I talk to my publisher. Oh, and by the way, Lieutenant, congratulations on your draw. You'll be talking to your family very soon. I'm happy for you."  
  
"Uh, thanks, Doc," Tom said, managing to speak in the midst of his astonishment. "Good luck with your publisher."  
  
The Doctor smiled broadly. "Good luck is irrelevant. My work will speak for itself. I expect that in the near future Emerson Holmes will be a celebrated name in the holonovel circuit. But I won't forget where it all started, or my friends here on _Voyager_."  
  
"Glad to hear it, Doc," Tom muttered, but the Doctor was already gone. He frowned at the closed door. Two minutes of congenial conversation, and not one sarcastic comment from the Doctor? Maybe he should call B'Elanna and ask her to do a diagnostic on the Doc's program to see if it had been altered...  
  
Nah. He should just enjoy the Doctor's preoccupation with his dreams of holonovelist fame. Who was he to impinge on a rare good mood?  
  
Tom walked into the Doctor's office, plopped himself down in the Doctor's chair, and kicked his feet up on the desk. He put his hands behind his head and grinned. "Computer, access music system."  
  
_"System accessed. Please specify music selection."_  
  
"Hmm..."  
  
"Lieutenant Paris."  
  
Tom shot up in the chair, knocking the Doctor's lab reports askew as he hastily removed his feet from the desk. "Oh...hey, Icheb."  
  
"Am I disturbing you?"  
  
"Not at all," Tom said, straightening the lab reports. "What can I do for you? Are you ill?"  
  
Icheb shook his head. "I am well. I am returning my analysis on Bolian enzyme reactions to the Doctor."  
  
Tom noticed the PADD in Icheb's hand. "Okay. You can just leave that on the desk. The Doctor won't be back until fifteen hundred hours."  
  
Icheb set the PADD on the desk. "I forgot. The Doctor is making his call home today."  
  
Tom nodded. "To his publisher, to be exact. How'd you do on that, Icheb?"  
  
"I drew number fifty-nine," Icheb said. "I plan to contact a professor in Exobiology at the Academy, Doctor Ch'Kasti. She is the preeminent expert in the field, and I want to ascertain if my course of study is sufficiently challenging."  
  
Tom studied the young man in front of him. "That's commendable, Icheb, but wouldn't you rather talk to your adoptive family?"  
  
Icheb looked surprised, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him. "I have already been conversing with your parents in letters."  
  
That prevarication had a familiar sound. Perhaps the kid was nervous about facing Admiral Paris. Tom could understand the feeling. His father could be intimidating. More likely, Icheb was hesitant about making the first move in a relationship that was so new to him, and unlike any relationship he'd ever had before, since his birth family certainly didn't count. That gave Tom an idea.  
  
"I suppose you heard that I drew number ten."  
  
Icheb nodded. "Congratulations, Lieutenant Paris."  
  
"Tom," the acting medical officer reminded him. He decided he liked his sudden inspiration a lot. He also told himself it was only because he wanted to include Icheb, and that diverting attention from himself had nothing to do with it. "Icheb, why don't you join B'Elanna and I when we talk to my parents?"  
  
Icheb looked startled, then discomfited. "Your time will be limited, and I'm sure your parents want to spend that time talking to you, Lieu--Tom. They haven't seen you for many years."  
  
"I'm sure they'll be happy to see me, but they are just as eager see my family--B'Elanna, and Miral. And you. You're part of our family now too."  
  
Icheb looked uncertain. "I don't want to--"  
  
"I insist," Tom said before Icheb could say something ridiculous like "intrude." "And I won't take no for an answer."  
  
Icheb's eyebrows rose at Tom's uncompromising tone. "You won't?"  
  
Tom's lips quirked. "No, I won't. I think my time is 1434, the day after tomorrow, but I'll check to be sure. I'll expect you to meet B'Elanna and me in front of the briefing room then."  
  
"Very well, Tom. Since you insist."  
  
Tom grinned at the gleam in Icheb's eyes and noticed the kid's shoulders had relaxed. He could really get to like this big brother thing.  
  
"I must go. Commander Chakotay is meeting me in the geoscience lab to advise me on my paleontology project."  
  
"You better go then. It wouldn't do to be late."  
  
"I am never late," Icheb said.  
  
Tom laughed. "We're definitely nothing alike. I guess that makes us perfect brothers."  
  
Icheb looked baffled at that reasoning, but after a moment he smiled, accepting Tom's assertion. "I think I will enjoy being brothers, Tom."  
  
Tom smiled back. "So will I, Icheb."  
  
*  
  
Janeway stood silently, her official smile of welcome pasted on her face. It faded just slightly as she looked at the three who appeared on the transporter platform. She'd expected to greet the captain and his officers from the _Maruuk_ in their ship uniforms. One of the Shaal'ra, the only female, was wearing a black uniform, but the other two were wearing colorful if somewhat timeworn tunics and leggings, and their hair hung long, straight down their backs. All three were carrying duffel style bags, as if they expected to visit for a while.  
  
Janeway recognized the most colorfully dressed as Repaas. Though she was a little distracted by the clothing, she stepped forward to greet the other ship's captain. He jumped from the platform lightly and held out his arms, palms up, before she could speak.  
  
"Captain Kathryn Janeway, it is good to meet you. I respect your custom of greeting a mere trader such as myself. However, I would speak to your trader now rather than take up your valuable time."  
  
Janeway nodded. "Certainly, Captain Repaas. This is my trader, Neelix." She motioned and Neelix stepped forward, his own brightly colored clothing looking oddly in concert with that of the Shaal'ra.  
  
Neelix smiled broadly and started to speak, but Repaas interrupted him. "Captain Kathryn Janeway, I do not understand. I was led to believe from Captain Repaas that I would be dealing with _your_ trader."  
  
Now Janeway was confused. She glanced at Tuvok and Sarexa. Sarexa's gaze was fixated on the Shaal'ra, her brow furrowed in concentration. "I'm sorry," Janeway addressed the Shaal'ra trader. "I must be mistaken. I thought you were Captain Repaas. You look just like him."  
  
The Shaal'ra woman in black stepped forward slightly on the transporter platform and spoke to the trader. "Kineet, we have been misled. They are like the other single-identity aliens who have crossed our space."  
  
Janeway's eyebrows rose at the term "single-identity." Perhaps the computer's universal translator couldn't translate the Shaal'ra term accurately. She felt a tap on her shoulder. "One moment if you will...Kineet."  
  
"Captain," Sarexa said quietly, once Janeway had moved several steps away from the transporter. "I believe these are representatives of Species Seven Three One Seven. I have only very limited information on them, but they are a species whose brains are arranged differently than most humanoids. While most humanoids have a single identity, their bodies house several separate identities."  
  
"Captain Kathryn Janeway," Kineet said impatiently. "Do you possess a trader or not?"  
  
Janeway turned back to the Shaal'ra representatives. Apparently the universal translator was accurate. She wished they'd gotten enough data from the primary scans of the planet to ascertain this fact, but they weren't close enough yet. "If I understand your meaning, no. We have a number of different species onboard Voyager, all of whom possess only one identity."  
  
"I see. It is unfortunate Captain Repaas did not recognize your nature, however he is not the most discerning of captains."  
  
Janeway had a moment's surprise at Kineet's disparagement of--well, himself, in a sense. Then the Shaal'ra woman in black stepped forward. "As a ship's officer, I shall take over this contact, Kineet."  
  
"Yes, Metaar," Kineet said, stepping back.  
  
"Captain Kathryn Janeway, there has been a miscommunication. We must abort this negotiation."  
  
"We did not intend to deceive you," Janeway said. "We wish permission to cross your space and to trade for supplies."  
  
"We do not accuse you of deceit, nor blame you for your nature, Captain Kathryn Janeway," Metaar said. "However, it does preclude us from trading with you. It is our policy to limit our interactions with mentally disadvantaged species."  
  
Kathryn caught Tuvok's raised eyebrow. "We are representatives of a far-ranging federation of...single-identity species, all quite advanced, as you can see from our ship." Lieutenant Kim had estimated the technological level of the _Maruuk_ to be roughly equivalent to that of _Voyager_. "We do not consider ourselves disadvantaged. We simply use our brains differently."  
  
"Of course," Metaar said, with an edge of condescension. "Do you require sleep?"  
  
Sleep? "Yes. Though those of Commander Tuvok's species"--Janeway nodded toward her security chief--"can go many days without sleep."  
  
Metaar glanced at Tuvok, then back at Janeway. "Interesting, yet sleep is still required eventually. The necessity of sleep is a known trait of a more primitive neurological structure. We have met other species with such generalized brains. We would be favored during intense negotiations by our highly specialized abilities. It would be wrong to take unfair advantage of your natural limitations."  
  
Janeway bit back her frustration. She would like to learn more about these people. She was unaware of another species where multiple identities manifested themselves in one body, except for those species that housed symbionts. But more than that, she'd hoped to refill _Voyager's_ larder. "If you would reconsider--"  
  
"I regret that we cannot trade with you, Captain Kathryn Janeway. However, if you still wish to pass through our space, the _Maruuk_ will escort your ship, and I will remain here as your Shaal'ra envoy."  
  
"Envoy?" Janeway asked.  
  
"It is required for travel through our space," Metaar said. "We must ensure that you obey our laws, but we will not interfere with your ship's functions."  
  
Janeway sighed. At least the Shaal'ra weren't insisting on flying _Voyager_, or demanding the crew pass a test to cross their space. "We accept your condition," she told Metaar. She nodded to Tuvok, who strode to the transporter console and initiated the beam-out of the other two Shaal'ra.  
  
"This is my security chief, Commander Tuvok." Janeway made the introduction as Kineet and his fellow trader disappeared. "He will assign you quarters where you can freshen up and rest. His department will also be overseeing your visit. You are welcome to tour our ship and spend time in any unrestricted areas."  
  
Metaar nodded. "Thank you, Captain Kathryn Janeway."  
  
"Just 'captain' will be fine," Janeway said. She didn't relish being repeatedly addressed by her full name over the next several days.  
  
"We appreciate your hospitality. We will not intrude nor interfere in any way."  
  
Metaar's use of the pronoun "we" reminded Janeway of the obvious, though she was briefly startled at the realization. "I assume we will see other...identities during your stay?"  
  
"I share this body with three other identities. Deliin is a neurosurgeon, Lizaat is an artist, and Tineel is a political analyst. We each experience periods of submergence--consistent with your concept of rest--but I assure you, the others will observe all proprieties."  
  
Neelix stepped up. "Captain, I would like to accompany Mister Tuvok so I can plan a suitable menu for Metaar and her companions."  
  
Neelix smiled at Metaar, not hiding his curiosity nor his enthusiasm at the idea of learning more about the culinary ways of the Shaal'ra and adding more recipes to his database.  
  
"Besides being a fine trader, Mister Neelix is also our resident chef," Janeway told Metaar. "He'll do his best to provide you with whatever suits your tastes while you're here."  
  
As Tuvok ushered them out, Neelix began peppering Metaar with questions about the diet and tastes of the Shaal'ra. Tuvok would have a hard time getting a word in edgewise, but Janeway knew he'd find a way.  
  
"Captain, I'm sorry I didn't recall anything about this species earlier."  
  
Janeway shook her head. "There's no need to apologize." This far from Borg space, she'd expected Sarexa might not know anything about them at all. "You cued me in at the critical moment."  
  
"The Borg only encountered them once, on a ship more than a thousand light years from their home planet. They were a difficult species to assimilate because of their unique brain structure. Had their planet ever been reached by the Borg armada, most would have been killed."  
  
For a moment, Janeway envisioned that frustrating hindrance to Borg efficiency: having to confront one identity after another before the assimilation was complete. Her spurt of satisfaction faded at the realization that Sarexa was right. The Borg would have chosen the more expedient course. She was glad the Borg front line had never made it this far.  
  
"The Shaal'ra possess technology roughly equivalent to that of the Federation. Their military capabilities are adequate, though they have little interest in conquest or empire-building. They prefer to pour most of their resources into science and the arts. That is all I recall about them."  
  
"That's more than enough, Sarexa," Janeway assured her as they exited the transporter room. "We have an opportunity to expand on your knowledge. Hopefully, we'll know more about them by the time we've crossed their space."  
  
*  



	3. Act 2

*  
  
**Act Two**  
  
Harry Kim made another adjustment at the briefing room console. The viewscreen flashed with momentary static, then the picture cleared. "Okay, all set. If you have any questions or problems, Doctor, I'll be waiting outside."  
  
The Doctor spared a quick glance at Kim. "I'm sure I'll be fine, Lieutenant." Then his attention was focused curiously on the portly man who appeared on the screen in front of him. "Ah, Benson D'Williger, I assume?"  
  
"Of course," the silver-haired man answered. His eyes narrowed in his round face. "*You're* Emerson Holmes?"  
  
The Doctor nodded, smiling broadly. "As I mentioned before, it's a pseudonym, though a catchy one don't you think? It's a combination of my favorite poet and one of Earth's great literary characters."  
  
"I recognize the sources," Benson D'Williger said. "But I expected--you're the Doctor, aren't you?"  
  
"That is my primary profession," the Doctor replied. "Though I have many other talents."  
  
"But...the Doctor is a hologram."  
  
D'Williger's voice was perplexed, and the Doctor wondered if the man was dense, or if he never left his office. Perhaps he should have chosen one of the other publishers, but it was too late now. "That's correct, Mister D'Williger. I'm sure my image has surfaced frequently in the Alpha Quadrant. I'm surprised you've missed it."  
  
"I've seen it," D'Williger said. "I've seen images of all of you, and I've spent the past few months wondering just who on _Voyager_ was using the pseudonym 'Emerson Holmes.' My best guess was Lieutenant Paris--"  
  
"Lieutenant Paris!" the Doctor scoffed. "Believe me, his creative reputation is vastly inflated."  
  
"In any case, this is a problem. You shouldn't have hidden your identity!"  
  
The Doctor frowned. That sounded almost like an accusation. "I didn't! I signed my letters--" he paused. Starscape Galactic Adventures had been among the second group of holographic publishing houses to which he'd sent inquiry letters. By then he'd finally decided on his pseudonym, and had used it as his signature, since it seemed much more fitting for a holonovelist than "Emergency Medical Hologram."  
  
"You didn't tell me you were a hologram," D'Williger said, his voice angry now.  
  
"It was an oversight, I assure you. Besides, why--"  
  
"An oversight? Are you sure you didn't use a pseudonym to hide your true nature?"  
  
The Doctor bristled. That definitely was an accusation. "Of course not! It was purely for dramatic effect. I did nothing irregular. Many novelists use pseudonyms."  
  
"Real novelists," D'Williger corrected sharply.  
  
"I _am_ a real novelist," the Doctor protested. "I assure you 'A Hero for the Times' is completely my own work, if that is your concern."  
  
"That doesn't really matter. You're a hologram, not a person. You can't sign a contract."  
  
"Can't sign a contract--that's ridiculous! I assure you I am not your average hologram, Mister D'Williger. My programming is extremely sophisticated. I am more than capable of signing a simple contract!"  
  
"Whether you've gone beyond your programming limitations is of no interest to me. Federation law says you can't sign a contract, and I can't say I disagree." D'Williger shook his head and his lips curled. "It wasn't bad enough an android wanted to be sentient, now we have holograms that don't know their place."  
  
The Doctor seethed, but he managed to hold his temper. "I've received a dozen inquiries about 'A Hero for the Times.' If you don't want it, that's your loss. I'll offer it to another publisher--"  
  
"Not much point in that, _Doctor_." D'Williger's smile was smug. "The law's the law. No one is going to enter into a contract with you. And now that I think about it, your holonovel was really not up to our standards. Good day."  
  
"Not--." the Doctor sputtered as the screen went blank. A few moments later he strode out of briefing room, more stunned than angry. It had never occurred to him that being a hologram would preclude him from signing a contract. After all, he was as sentient as anyone on _Voyager_. And more sentient that that buffoon D'Williger. This was just another example of the kind of bias against photonic-based life that he'd already experienced numerous times.  
  
"Hey, Doctor!"  
  
The Doctor stopped, meeting the curious gazes of Harry Kim and Mario Gennaro. "Are you finished already?" Harry asked. "You still have a little over a minute left."  
  
"I've finished my call, Lieutenant," the Doctor said curtly. He looked at Gennaro, who was practically bouncing on his heels in anticipation. "You can start a little early with your call, Ensign."  
  
"Thanks, Doctor!" Gennaro said, grinning as he sprinted into briefing room.  
  
Harry stopped at the door. "Doc..."  
  
"It was a productive call, Mister Kim," the Doctor assured the lieutenant, deflecting the concern in Harry's expression with a smile.  
  
"That's great, Doc."  
  
The Doctor sighed as Harry entered the briefing room. He headed for Sickbay, determined to look up the Federation laws pertaining to contracts, just to verify what D'Williger had told him. Maybe there was a legal loophole, some fine print that would clarify his status. After all, there were always loopholes. Then he'd make a few minor changes in his holonovel before he contacted another publisher. The story could use another villain. Perhaps a malevolent species of sluglike creatures called Dewilligers...  
  
*  
  
"I thought you took care of that, Tom!"  
  
Tom bounced his daughter gently in one arm as he matched B'Elanna's breakneck pace, a testament to her temper. "B'Elanna, I left before you this morning to take Miral to Naomi. You were the last one out."  
  
B'Elanna turned to scowl at Tom. "You're the one who dressed Miral!"  
  
"Okay, okay," Tom capitulated, "It was my fault. It must have fallen out of the crib, and I didn't notice. We can always replicate another one."  
  
"Replicate another what?" Harry asked as he joined them.  
  
"Miral's aqua blanket," Tom said. "The one with the warp core design on it."  
  
"The one the engineering staff gave her?" Harry asked rhetorically. "What happened to it?"  
  
B'Elanna growled, "That demonic carpet cleaner sucked it up!"  
  
"Oh." Harry glanced at Miral, who was tugging at the collar of Tom's shirt, paying no attention the conversation going on around her. He chucked her lightly under the chin. "Maybe I can take apart the cleaner and check its recycling buffer. The molecular pattern might still be there--"  
  
"Forget it, Harry," B'Elanna said. She put her hand on Tom's arm. It really wasn't his fault neither of them had noticed the blanket on the floor. "Thanks, anyway. I'm sure Sue still has the design. But if I get my hands on that carpet cleaner..."  
  
Harry grinned. "If Big Betsy knows what's good for her, she'll stay out of your way."  
  
"Who's Big Betsy?" Megan Delaney asked, as she approached with her sister, Jenny.  
  
"The carpet cleaner," Harry told Megan.  
  
"Oh. In Sciences we've been calling it the Mean Green Machine."  
  
"In Helm and Navigation it's known as Octopussy," Tom said.  
  
B'Elanna snorted. "Does every department need to have a name for it?" She'd figured 'pain in the ass' would be suitable enough.  
  
"Octopussy?" Jenny asked dryly. "Why do I think _you_ came up with that one, Tom?"  
  
Tom grinned. "It's for the roving sucker arms. Plus it was the title of this great James Bond movie from the twentieth century, the one where Bond--"  
  
"There's Tuvok," Harry said quickly, saving them all from a detailed synopsis.  
  
Tuvok approached with the Shaal'ra envoy. When she'd been escorted through Engineering on a brief tour earlier she'd been wearing a black uniform and her hair had been pulled back in a severe bun. Now her hair was loose and flowing, and she was wearing a gauzy pink dress that B'Elanna could only think of as "frothy." Presumably this was a different identity.  
  
"This is Lizaat," Tuvok said, and he proceeded to introduce each of the gathered lieutenants in turn. B'Elanna assumed from Lizaat's curious gaze that she didn't remember meeting most of them earlier as Metaar. She hadn't thought much about their visitor, but it occurred to her now that the identities must be completely separate. She wondered how or if they communicated with each other. She also noticed that Lizaat's gaze lingered curiously on Miral during the introductions.  
  
"Lizaat is an artist," Tuvok informed them. "She is interested in all forms of creative expression. She wished to experience the Doctor's holonovel debut."  
  
"It is fascinating that your doctor is also artistic," Lizaat said in a voice softer and lower-pitched than Metaar's.  
  
"That's a matter of opinion," Harry said.  
  
Tuvok raised an eyebrow at Harry's sarcastic comment, then turned to Lizaat. "Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay are now present. They expressed a desire to meet you."  
  
The captain and Chakotay were arriving from the opposite direction and B'Elanna watched Tuvok and Lizaat move that way, Lizaat walking with a fluid grace unlike the measured steps Metaar had used in Engineering.  
  
"Weird," Megan murmured. "I wonder what it would be like to share your body with a bunch of other people."  
  
"Could you imagine changing your outfit and hairstyle that many times in a day?" Jenny pondered. "Bathroom privileges would be hell."  
  
Miral let out a small squeal at that moment, so timely that everyone laughed. Then Miral said clearly, "No!"  
  
"She's talking!" Jenny exclaimed.  
  
Tom smiled. "She started a couple of days ago."  
  
Jenny cooed at the baby. "Can you say 'Aunt Jenny'?"  
  
"Dada!" said Miral, tugging hard on her father's shirt.  
  
Tom beamed with pride. "Those are her only two words so far, but she's not even nine months old yet."  
  
"And Tom hasn't quit bragging," Harry said, grinning at Jenny and Megan.  
  
Megan ruffled Miral's short dark curls. "Your daddy has every right to brag about you, doesn't he, sweetie?"  
  
Miral smiled and chattered in incomprehensible baby talk.  
  
"Looks like the novel's about to start," Harry said, and a moment later they were joining the several dozen other crewmembers who were pouring into holodeck one.  
  
Tom, B'Elanna and Harry found three seats behind the captain and first officer, and Tom settled Miral on his lap. "Don't worry, sweetie," he whispered to her. "The Doctor didn't lampoon you in his holonovel. Unless you're supposed to be Schweitzer, the hologram-loving Chihuahua who pees on everyone else's shoes."  
  
B'Elanna rolled her eyes. Tom had already given her a few hints about the Doctor's holonovel. She knew the Doctor had derived his characters directly from _Voyager's_ crew. For Tom, amusement seemed to win over affront--though that could be because he had a soft spot for the Doctor, even if he'd never admit it. She wasn't quite as forgiving as her husband. Still, she'd promised him she wouldn't reprogram the Doctor into a pool boy at Neelix's resort. She just wished he'd accepted her alternate offer to rewire the holodeck so it would be unavailable tonight.  
  
"Last I heard, Tuvok had planned to meditate this evening," Tom said, as Tuvok and Lizaat took seats two rows in front of them. "He'll wish he had once he watches T'Ubark being saved by the Emergency Security Hologram just as his brain is about to be sucked dry by a Dork."  
  
B'Elanna suspected it was going to be harder than she'd thought to keep her temper in check. She could only hope Miral got fussy during the production, though she knew she probably wouldn't be so lucky. Miral was fascinated by activity and by people. She only fussed when it was time to sleep. The Doctor's appearance in front of the audience diverted her pessimistic thoughts.  
  
"Welcome," the Doctor said, his voice surprisingly subdued. "Thank you for attending this presentation of my holonovel, 'A Hero for the Times'. Usually you would wander through the novel as it progresses, but tonight the presentation will be in the form of a stage play, to accommodate the size of the audience. I hope you find the experience enjoyable. Computer, begin program."  
  
That was it? After all his prancing around during the past week promoting his holonovel as the next masterpiece of literature, he wasn't going to take advantage of his moment in the limelight? B'Elanna whispered to Tom, "What's that about?"  
  
"He was that way when he got back to Sickbay this afternoon. He seemed preoccupied, and he rushed me out. He didn't want to talk at all."  
  
B'Elanna didn't have a chance to inquire further about the Doctor's lack of animation because the first scene opened. The setting was a sickbay--not Voyager's Sickbay, but clearly a sickbay on a starship. A man dressed in a white and green uniform, his face easily recognizable as _Voyager's_ Doctor, despite the fuller head of hair with distinguished streaks of gray, moved from behind a large desk and began to speak. "I am the emergency hologram aboard the Universal Starship _Valorous_, defender class vessel of the Great Galactic Confederation. Though I address you now as the Emergency Medical Hologram, my function aboard the _Valorous_ is multifaceted. This is my story, the story of a hero. Not just any hero, but a hero different from any other that has come before, a hero of unprecedented nature and scope. A hero for the times."  
  
So it began.  
  
*  
  
"How much longer?" Janeway groaned in a low voice, right after Captain Fayray sensed the hostility of the Putrigen, who raided passing starships to steal their replicator systems. What amazing insight.  
  
"No idea," Chakotay whispered. His gaze was fixed on the unfolding saga in front of them, where the Emergency Pilot Hologram was expertly steering the ship away as a chain explosion destroyed the Putrigen ships, while barely avoiding the debris that spewed out in all directions.  
  
"Can you believe this?"  
  
Instead of answering her question, Chakotay chuckled as the EPH accepted a round of applause. Don London looked at him with undisguised awe, while Captain Fayray hailed his unparalleled ingenuity and courage.  
  
Janeway's eyes narrowed on her first officer. He was actually enjoying this. He didn't seem to care that his alter ego Shocklattee served no useful purpose at all on the _Valorous_ except to disagree with everything the cloying Captain Fayray said.  
  
As if he felt her annoyed gaze, Chakotay fingers brushed hers. "Come on, you have to admit this is pretty funny."  
  
"Hmphh," Janeway muttered. Trust Chakotay to take it lightly. She returned her attention to the holonovel as the scene switched to the Mess Hall, where antipathy was running high.  
  
"Feedus, what is this tripe?!" the youthful Achoob demanded, as he knelt next to a prone Andorian girl.  
  
The Ferengi cook sneered at the young Rigellian. "Excellent deduction, Achoob. Your brain is good for something. It is tripe. The stomach of a Ferengi firebeast, to be exact."  
  
There were a chorus of groans and yucks amongst the gathered diners. Feedus shrugged at them all. "If you want something else, you'll have to pay me."  
  
A pained expression marred the blue face of the Andorian girl and her antennae twitched alarmingly. "Look at Meoni!" Achoob snapped. "She's obviously ill. You poisoned her!"  
  
"I did not poison her!" Feedus said indignantly. "It's not my fault her system is so delicate."  
  
"Tell that to S'Manda when she gets here," Achoob said. "She'll have you by the ear again. Hopefully both of them."  
  
Feedus touched his sensitive earlobes as two female Orion crewmembers knelt on either side of Achoob. "The EMH is on his way," one of them reported.  
  
"Thanks, Pagan," Achoob said gratefully.  
  
"You're welcome," Pagan replied as she rubbed Achoob's tense shoulder. Ninny began to expertly massage the other shoulder. Feedus frowned. "Hey, why don't you ever do that to my ears?"  
  
The two Orions ignored Feedus and continued their ministrations.  
  
Feedus reached into his pocket. "What if I just happen to have an antidote for Ferengi tripe fever? It costs a mere two hundred credits"--The sisters and Achoob glared at him--"or I'll accept an earlobe massage. _Both_ earlobes."  
  
"Never mind your latest attempt at extortion, Feedus," the EMH said, pushing past the Ferengi, as his Chihuahua Schweitzer followed at his heels. "I have arrived."  
  
"Thank gods," Achoob said fervently, as the EMH began examining his patient. Schweitzer bared his teeth at Feedus, who bared his teeth back. While the two tried to out-intimidate each other, the EMH pressed a hypo to Meoni's arm.  
  
"Yes, thank gods," Chakotay echoed, mirth in his voice. Janeway rolled her eyes.  
  
After a moment, Meoni's eyes fluttered open. She sat up and smiled warmly at the EMH. It was not a second too soon, as S'Manda came bursting into the Mess Hall, her antennae laid back against her head. "What happened to my little girl?!" she shrieked.  
  
Meoni stood up. "I'm fine, Mom. The EMH cured me. And I'm not a little girl, remember?"  
  
S'Manda turned to the EMH. "I don't know how to thank you, EMH. Again."  
  
"No, need for thanks, Lieutenant Wailmom," the EMH said cheerfully. "I'm just doing my job."  
  
"While you're here, I don't suppose you'd like to become the Emergency Chef Hologram for a few minutes?" Achoob asked, glaring at Feedus again. "We haven't had a decent meal since the Kapon invaders forced the replicators to mass-produce coffee so they could corner the market in the Delta Quadrant."  
  
"I suppose I could whip up a simple _soufflé du frommage_ to feed a hundred or so--"  
  
_"Engineering to EEH."_  
  
"Go ahead, Lieutenant Mors-Whim."  
  
_"We need you down here right away. The warp matrix is in full flux."_  
  
"On my way, Lieutenant."  
  
"I guess that's why you're called the 'emergency' hologram," Meoni said. "There are so many of them on this ship."  
  
The EMH sighed dramatically. "Yes, my work is never done."  
  
"Too bad there aren't more of you," S'Manda lamented, as the EMH flickered and reappeared in an engineering uniform.  
  
"It is unfortunate," the EEH agreed. "You'll just have to fend for yourselves here tonight," he called as he left, Schweitzer scampering after him.  
  
"Or eat the dinner I've already prepared," Feedus said, revealing his crooked teeth in a satisfied grin. "Since no one else on board can cook."  
  
"Doesn't Don London make a pretty decent peanut butter and jelly sandwich?" Meoni asked. Her fellow diners nodded in frantic agreement as the scene faded.  
  
"That was the halfway mark."  
  
Janeway heard Tom's low comment to B'Elanna, followed by the chief engineer's throaty growl, as the engineering room of the _Valorous_ appeared. The emergency hologram rushed in, ready to save the ship once more.  
  
Janeway sighed again. Only six more heroic acts of unparalleled ingenuity and courage to go.  
  
*  
  
This crew of _Voyager_ was more interesting than Lizaat had expected, considering their single-identity nature and their inferiority, confirmed by the Doctor's holonovel. Though names and appearances had been marginally altered, his work was clearly autobiographical. She had been fascinated as his true nature had been revealed. She was equally curious about these aliens he chose to live among. She would have much to relate once she could record her thoughts into her subdermal processor, but she wasn't in any great hurry to return to her quarters.  
  
Commander Tuvok had stepped a few meters away to speak with another security officer, leaving her to observe the crew. Though Tuvok had evidenced no reaction to the holonovel due to the unemotional nature he'd indicated of his species, others had reacted in a variety of ways. Moments ago, the captain had called the holonovel ridiculous and the Doctor ego-driven, while her first officer had referred to it as harmless and amusing. The two were still arguing the subject, though with no real animosity, as if the argument was more of an enjoyable exercise than a crucial disagreement.  
  
The twins she'd been introduced to earlier were among the next group to exit the holodeck. The one named Jenny appeared angry, while the other calmly comforted her twin. In that sense they must be like the Shaal'ra. Duplicate womb pairings did not produce duplicate identities.  
  
"It was insulting!" Jenny said, her steps hard on the carpet.  
  
"I thought it was kind of funny," Megan said. "Aren't you the one who once said it would be fun to be an Orion woman and have men fall at your feet?"  
  
"I wasn't serious, Megan!"  
  
"Well, it's nothing to get upset about. It was just a holonovel."  
  
"That's easy for you to say. You weren't the one named 'Ninny'!"  
  
Megan shrugged. "That's true."  
  
As the twins passed, a tall, dark-haired man following behind them said, "I rather liked the Doctor's personal assistant."  
  
The woman with him made an inelegant noise. "You would, Bristow. What irks me is that she still looks perfectly gorgeous, even when she's completely bald."  
  
"I wonder how Seven would feel about the Doctor making her bald?" a second young man asked.  
  
"Mulcahey, that wasn't Seven," Bristow replied. "That was a Deltan named Debin. Right, Sue?"  
  
Sue rolled her eyes. "Sure. And that wasn't me being nearly incinerated by the warp core implosion, that was Lu Suspagetti, a Coridani who happens to look just like me."  
  
"Hey, at least you weren't a Cardassian, like Freddie," Mulcahey said, smirking at Bristow.  
  
"Or a Romulan, like Shaun," Bristow added, smirking back at Mulcahey.  
  
"I think I made a splendid Romulan," Mulcahey said.  
  
"Oh, you make a real menacing Romulan, Shaun," Sue said.  
  
"Hey, if the captain can be a soft-hearted Betazoid, I can be a-- ouch!" Mulcahey glared at Sue and rubbed his arm.  
  
Another group exited the holodeck, and Lizaat recognized them as others she'd been introduced to by Commander Tuvok.  
  
"All I did was constantly get hurt," Lieutenant Kim groused. "I spent half of the holonovel in Sickbay."  
  
"With a name like Derry Whim, what did you expect?" asked Lieutenant Paris. "Besides, look at my character. Don London was possessed by an alien tricorder and ended up in a wrestling match with the captain for control of the ship."  
  
"Until the ESH broke the tricorder code and you started reciting the ship's coordinates over and over." Lieutenant Torres grinned and patted her husband's arm. "Don't worry, you looked cute staring vacantly into space."  
  
Paris smirked. "And you looked cute trying to figure out if that big blue thing in the middle of Engineering was the warp core."  
  
Though that was an exaggeration, Torres' eyes narrowed menacingly on her husband.  
  
"At least you were only incompetent," Neelix said to her, though Torres didn't look mollified. "The Doctor made me a Ferengi." The ship's cook had greeted Lizaat effusively before the holonovel premiere, but now he looked less than jovial. "Doesn't he know that Ferengi are much shorter than Talaxians?"  
  
Kim shook his head. "We're a bunch of buffoons, while the Doctor, or EH, or whatever, is perfect."  
  
"It's just a holonovel," Paris said. "You know the Doc. He's always feeding his ego."  
  
"At our expense," Kim complained.  
  
"Lizaat, did you enjoy the Doctor's holonovel?" the captain asked as she and Commander Chakotay approached.  
  
"I found the Doctor's creative endeavor quite brilliant, Captain."  
  
The captain's eyebrows rose. "I see. The Doctor's work can be somewhat...self-congratulatory."  
  
Lizaat assumed the captain meant the words literally. She'd noted that the crew always referred to their emergency hologram as "doctor." Odd, but she respected their custom. "Indeed, the Doctor should celebrate his versatility and higher nature. You must hold him in very great esteem."  
  
The captain remained speechless for several moments, and Commander Chakotay made a noise, then cleared his throat. "Uh...umm, yes, of course," the captain finally murmured, turning her attention to the others.  
  
"It's pretty obvious the Doctor used the real crew as his model," Kim was saying to Paris. "Except for a few cosmetic and species alterations, they were us."  
  
Though Lizaat had figured that out already, it was clear that some of the crew felt embarrassed by their inferiority, which was understandable.  
  
Torres was shaking her head. "I wonder what people will think in the Alpha Quadrant?"  
  
"They'll know it's just a holonovel," Commander Chakotay said. "Our mission logs are public knowledge. The difference between fiction and reality is pretty obvious."  
  
Torres snorted and Kim muttered, "I wouldn't be so sure."  
  
"I don't think the Doctor completely realized he was satirizing us."  
  
Kim gave Paris an accusing look. "But you did."  
  
"Geez, Harry don't start--"  
  
"You shouldn't complain, Harry," Neelix said. "On the _Valorous,_ the chief engineer chose to marry the operations officer."  
  
Kim grinned. "She did show exceptionally good taste."  
  
Torres snickered, then met her husband's annoyed look and shrugged. "If you would have let me rewire the holodeck before the holonovel started--" She stopped as the baby who'd been sleeping peacefully stirred and whimpered against her shoulder. Paris carefully tucked in a corner of the blanket wrapped around his daughter.  
  
"Don't worry. She's still asleep," Harry Kim said, while everyone smiled at the baby, who slept on, unaware of the attention focused on her.  
  
Lizaat noted that the holonovel was immediately forgotten for the moment. She'd observed several other crewmembers showing uncommon interest and delight in this infant. She saw nothing unusual about the child to engender such attention. Though Miral was the offspring of Lieutenants Paris and Torres, the rest of the crew seemed to believe she also belonged to them in some manner. It was a puzzling mindset. On Shaal'ra, babies and children were well cared for and conscientiously trained by their parents, but they were not given any special status. They were simply the immature bodies of their emerging identities.  
  
"Hello, Doctor," Commander Chakotay said, alerting Lizaat to the Doctor's approach. "Your holonovel was quite entertaining."  
  
"Thank you, Commander," the Doctor said. Despite the praise, Lizaat noted the Doctor seemed quite dispirited. "It seems to be underappreciated by some of the crew."  
  
"That's because it was about us and it wasn't very--ow!" Kim glared at Paris, who'd jabbed him with an elbow.  
  
"The characters did seem a little familiar," Neelix said.  
  
"But there were a lot of funny moments," Chakotay added, earning a frustrated look from Janeway.  
  
"Indeed, humor always enhances a story and makes it more accessible to the public," the Doctor said. "But the true purpose of my holonovel was to illustrate the value and versatility of holograms."  
  
"I found your story very enlightening Doctor," Lizaat said. "No doubt all those who view it will recognize the great worth of your kind."  
  
The Doctor looked at her with appreciation. "Thank you, Lizaat. You are obviously very perceptive."  
  
The captain sighed. "Though I understand your desire to provide public edification, perhaps there are other--"  
  
"It's a moot point, Captain," the Doctor interjected. "The public will not be seeing my holonovel, since my publisher has rejected it."  
  
"Rejected it?" Tom Paris sounded disbelieving.  
  
"That's a shame," Kim said, though he did not look unhappy at the news.  
  
"It seems that I cannot sign a legal contract, since as a hologram, I am not considered a 'person' under Federation law."  
  
The Doctor's bitter words made no sense to Lizaat. Perhaps the refusal stemmed from the fact that the Doctor was many "persons" instead of one "person." Such literal interpretation was the mark of an immature species, and her estimation of these aliens and their Federation went down. She wanted to express her outrage, but she knew it was not her place to condemn the value system of these aliens. Deliin would certainly chastise her for such interference.  
  
The captain frowned. "I'm sure there are some exceptions, Doctor."  
  
The Doctor shook his head. "I checked, and the law is unequivocal. After this presentation, my holonovel will be have no future except to gather dust, colloquially speaking." He sighed heavily. "I suppose I should be used to this kind of treatment by now. Goodnight."  
  
"Doctor..." The captain frowned as the Doctor walked away with his shoulders set in a dejected slump. "The law is wrong."  
  
"I thought you'd be happy to see the Doctor's holonovel die a quick death," Chakotay said.  
  
"I may not be a big fan of the Doctor's literary venture, Commander, but I will champion his right to create and distribute his work." The captain turned and walked away, with Chakotay by her side.  
  
"The captain will support the Doctor's rights?" Lizaat asked. She would have to revise her opinion of these aliens again. At least the ones on this ship.  
  
"When Captain Janeway takes on a fight, she doesn't back down," Paris said.  
  
"And you don't mess with anyone on her crew if you know what's good for you," Kim added.  
  
"A colorful, if accurate observation, Mister Kim," Commander Tuvok said as he joined them. "Lizaat, this is Lieutenant Michael Ayala. He will escort you for the next eight hours."  
  
Lieutenant Ayala offered a hand. Metaar had reported this odd custom, so Lizaat shook it. She recognized him as one of the officers in the Doctor's holonovel, Lieutenant Aloha, the entertainment director who arranged pool parties in a holodeck setting called "The Hula Zone." The holodeck within a holodeck had been a masterful use of irony in her view.  
  
"Where can I take you?" Ayala asked.  
  
"I would like to return to my quarters for a short while," Lizaat said.  
  
"I've got to go too," Kim said. "Marla's shift is almost over, and I promised I'd recap the Doctor's holonovel for her. Wait until she finds out she's a Lurian."  
  
As Kim went one way, Ayala led Lizaat in another. She heard Tom Paris say to the security chief, "Hey, Tuvok. How old are Vulcan babies when they first start talking?"  
  
"Four months," Tuvok answered.  
  
Lizaat heard the incredulity in Paris's voice as he said, "You're kidding, right?"  
  
"No. A Vulcan child who did not talk until eight point seven months would be subjected to a full neurological examination to determine the developmental deficit."  
  
The conversation faded away as Lizaat followed Lieutenant Ayala into the turbolift. Her thoughts returned to the Doctor. She was not the best one to handle this new information she had gathered, but she had much information to relate. By her calculation the "Doctor" had at least eight separate identities, maybe more.  
  
*  
  
_"Personal log, Stardate 55662.1, EMH reporting:  
  
"The debut of my holonovel was a success, Though there were some complaints about the similarities between the crew of the Valorous and the crew of Voyager--similarities that are quite understated--the audience remained riveted during the presentation, and laughed frequently. It appears I have evolved further in the application of humor than I had realized.  
  
"The crew of Voyager is understandably burdened by cynicism due to the many difficulties they've experienced in the Delta Quadrant. I'm certain the average citizen of the Federation would even more eagerly embrace my novel, not only as the excellent adventure it is, but as an introduction to a fascinating lifeform many have until now rarely encountered.  
  
"That's why this is so frustrating! To be offering the public this chance to understand the true nature of a hologram--as intelligent, resourceful, caring and courageous as any other sentient being--and to be denied that opportunity simply because I am a hologram--"  
_  
"Excuse me, Doctor."  
  
The Doctor looked up to find the Shaal'ra envoy standing in his office doorway. This time she was wearing a simple royal blue jumpsuit, and her hair was pulled back into a long, neat braid. She obviously wasn't Lizaat, and probably not the security officer, Metaar...  
  
"I am Deliin," she said, saving the Doctor from searching further for a way to address her.  
  
"Deliin," the Doctor repeated. "Welcome to Sickbay."  
  
"Thank you. Am I disturbing you?"  
  
"Not at all. Computer, pause log." He'd been prepared to complain about his fate for quite a bit longer, but seeing Deliin reminded him again of the unusual nature of the Shaal'ra. Normally he would have jumped at the opportunity to find out all he could about the physiology of such a unique species, if he hadn't been obsessed with his holonovel--which had turned out to have been a complete waste of his time--  
  
"I hoped to find you here, since you do not sleep. I am pleased that I was correct."  
  
He did shut himself down sometimes, but the Doctor was glad he'd decided not to tonight. "Do you require medical attention?"  
  
"No. I was touring your science and medical labs. I thought we might have a conversation."  
  
A hundred questions he'd like to ask her popped into the Doctor's mind. He smiled cordially, forgetting his holonovel woes for the moment. "I'd be delighted." Then he noticed Lieutenant Ayala standing by the door. "Mister Ayala, why don't you go get some coffee or something and leave Deliin here for a while. I'll take responsibility for her."  
  
Ayala looked uncertain for a moment, then he nodded. "I'll be outside Sickbay when you're ready to go, Deliin."  
  
"Please, sit," the Doctor said as Ayala left. "You said you were touring the science labs. Are you a science officer on the _Maruuk_?"  
  
"I'm not an officer," Deliin said. "The _Maruuk_ is not primarily a military vessel, though it does have a defensive force. The ship is also a science facility, a hospital, a commerce center, and a transport for a variety of groups traveling between the homeworld and the outer colonies. I am a neurosurgeon."  
  
Tuvok had said the _Maruuk_ contained three thousand Shaal'ra. Three thousand bodies anyway. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about your people?" the Doctor asked.  
  
"Generally, we do not share information with outsiders, but considering your nature, I will answer what I can."  
  
He wasn't sure what his nature had to do with it--perhaps because he was a fellow doctor--but he accepted her consent gladly. "There are a few species in the Federation who harbor symbionts. In those cases, the mental processes of both host and symbiont are integrated. From my brief observation of Metaar and Lizaat, and now you, I've deduced that your identities are not integrated at all, but are completely separate."  
  
"You are correct, Doctor. We are separate individuals. We each have our own lives--our work, societal function, families--"  
  
"Families?" the Doctor repeated. He considered how such multiple-consciousness beings would deal with sexual partnering and reproduction.  
  
"I have a husband and two children on the _Maruuk_," Deliin said.  
  
"I see. Then Metaar and Lizaat also have a husband and two children?" Who would share the same bodies, the Doctor assumed.  
  
Deliin confirmed his assumption. "Of course. As does Tineel. Our husbands share one physical body, as do our children. That is elementary for us, though the concept seems to be a difficult one for single-identity beings."  
  
The Doctor didn't doubt that. "Do you mate based on chemical bonding?"  
  
Deliin looked surprised and pleased at his perception, though it was the only method that made sense with multiple identities. Mating would be more a matter of instinct rather than choice for the Shaal'ra. "Yes, we do," she said. "I've heard that single-identity beings do not bond in that manner."  
  
"There is usually some chemical attraction involved, but it is only one part of bonding, and quite variable. Humans for instance, often go through several sexual relationships before they find a partner who is fully compatible. Even then, the bond they form may not be lifelong."  
  
Deliin shook her head. "That seems complicated and time-consuming. And very uncertain. I admit I find that aspect of single-species behavior difficult to conceptualize."  
  
"It is always difficult to conceptualize that with which you are unfamiliar." But often rewarding, the Doctor had found. "Still, the Shaal'ra must have some experience with single-identity species." If for no other reason than that they proliferated in the galaxy.  
  
"We have. Over a century ago, the Shaal'ra opened trade relations with a single-identity species called the Trejemi. Unfortunately, their single-identity nature kept them from devoting their energies fully to any one craft or pursuit. Those we dealt with were often unfocused, easily distracted, and inflexible when the parameters of a negotiation were altered. This made negotiations difficult, with the Shaal'ra easily able to take the advantage. We have a strict ethical code, and after that experience, we decided to keep ourselves more isolated."  
  
"The Trejemi are only one species," the Doctor pointed out. "The hundreds of species that make up the Federation have sustained that powerful alliance for centuries."  
  
"I do not doubt your word, Doctor. However, we have also found that single-identity species are often in armed conflict with each other, sometimes even amongst themselves. We have never known war on our planet, and we do not wish to be drawn into the conflicts of others."  
  
"The Federation avoids conflict whenever possible, but sometimes you do have to fight to exist." The Doctor thought it might be a good thing Shaal'ra space was far from Borg space, and from the Dominion.  
  
"We can defend ourselves if necessary," Deliin said. "Unlike single-identity beings we have met, we are each very specialized. Each identity is highly proficient at his or her role and is able to devote energy exclusively to achieving an objective, even if that objective is the defense of our planet."  
  
The Doctor nodded. "Of course. Single-identity beings do often take on several roles, but they can still be proficient at them. Lieutenant Paris, for instance, is our chief pilot, and my best medic. He also designed our _Delta Flyer_ shuttle, is a decent mechanic, and has some skill as a holoprogrammer. In the meantime he is Harry Kim's best friend, our chief engineer's husband, and now a father to a baby girl. Though he has only one identity, he has a variety of aspects to his personality that take precedence, depending on which role he is playing."  
  
Deliin shook her head. "It must be confusing and uncomfortable to have one's identity so vaguely defined, and to have no solid sense of purpose. One must also give less to each pursuit to spread oneself so far."  
  
"By focusing on only one pursuit, Lieutenant Paris would miss out on the other pursuits he enjoys. Diverse interests and a desire to master a wide variety of activities are traits of many single-identity species, and humans in particular." The Doctor couldn't imagine not having expanded his own programming to allow himself interests beyond medicine.  
  
Deliin looked perplexed. "Yet humans spend a long period of each day sleeping instead of using that time for these added activities."  
  
"Sleep is biologically necessary, however, mental processes do not cease during sleep. Most single-identity species dream."  
  
"Dream?"  
  
The Doctor realized the concept would be unknown to the Shaal'ra. "They enter an altered state of consciousness where concepts and scenarios, sometimes mundane, sometimes fantastical, are played out in their minds. It is a way for their minds to clear the clutter and regenerate. They often lapse into a similar state during conscious periods too. That is called daydreaming, which is a practice I have also taught myself by adding subroutines to stimulate imagination."  
  
"Imagination? You're referring to projecting mental images of probable outcomes, or hypothesizing possible solutions to complex problems?"  
  
The Doctor nodded. "Yes, that is part of it. Humans also imagine future moments, such as receiving an award for a task they haven't yet completed, or what their child might be like when he or she grows up. And they imagine unlikely or even unattainable situations, such as seeing oneself as a great sea explorer who saves a ship in distress, perhaps falling in love with a beautiful woman onboard..."  
  
"Then this 'daydreaming' serves no real purpose," Deliin stated.  
  
"It can be frivolous, but it does serve a purpose. Besides being enjoyable and reducing stress, it allows humans to mentally explore their interests and potentials. It's also the basis of much art and literature. My holonovel, for instance."  
  
"I see," Deliin said. "Perhaps Lizaat would better understand the concept. She told me about your holonovel."  
  
"She _told_ you?" The Doctor's curiosity was piqued. The identities in one body couldn't talk to each other face to face, and he hadn't seen any evidence of telepathic communication. "How do you communicate with the other identities in your body?"  
  
"We record a log of our activities in a subdermal processor."  
  
"Internally, via electric impulses from the brain?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
The Doctor wondered how they had communicated in more primitive times. Written notes to each other? Gossip passed by those around them? Clues left in their shared dwellings? There was so much to learn about such an unusual species--  
  
"I accessed the log in the same manner to learn of Lizaat's activities last night," Deliin said. "She was impressed by your artistic talent and the autobiographical nature of your holonovel."  
  
"I suppose some elements are autobiographical," the Doctor agreed. Certainly there were embellishments for the sake of drama, but much of the emergency hologram's exploits were an accurate projection of his real abilities.  
  
"I believe you're being modest, Doctor. Like the Shaal'ra, you possess multiple identities, with each able to perform a role with focused skill and efficiency."  
  
"It's true that I have continually added new subroutines to incorporate news skills, but I don't think--"  
  
"Though you are the EMH at this moment, your holomatrix also contains the ECH, EEH, and half a dozen other identities or more, according to Lizaat."  
  
"I'm afraid Lizaat's understanding is incomplete," the Doctor said.  
  
Deliin nodded. "Of course. We know very little about holograms. We have used holographic imagery only for simple applications, but you are clearly sentient. I assume you have a central database that is shared by your various identities, as we have a body and brain. You simply access each identity differently than we do."  
  
"I can access the pertinent subroutines to handle almost any given situation," the Doctor said. "But that doesn't change my basic identity. I am still...well, _me_, for lack of a better word. I recall everything I've done, whether I was accessing my medical subroutines, my command subroutines, my interpersonal subroutines or any other subroutine. Unlike the Shaal'ra, I just have one self."  
  
Deliin pressed her fingers together in a Vulcan-like gesture for several moments before she spoke. "As a scientist, I understand that you are different from us, and from the crew you work with on _Voyager_. You are a unique being. Perhaps you combine the best of both, able to be one identity and multiple identities. However, that distinction might best remain between the two of us."  
  
The Doctor wasn't sure why she made that request, but he nodded. "Would you like to see my holonovel?" he asked eagerly. "It would give you a clearer understanding of my nature."  
  
"Thank you for the offer, but I have no interest in artistic productions. That is Lizaat's area."  
  
The Doctor was disappointed, but he supposed that made sense, given each identity's specialization and limited periods of awareness. They would have little or no time for outside interests or leisure activities. It seemed unfortunate, though the Shaal'ra wouldn't feel they were missing anything, any more than Lieutenant Torres felt she was missing something by not listening to opera.  
  
Deliin stood. "I must return to my quarters, Doctor, but I thank you for the conversation. It was illuminating. I do find those on _Voyager_ different in some ways from the depictions of the Trejemi. Perhaps those differences are as meaningful as the similarities."  
  
"Perhaps they are," the Doctor agreed. "It's only through close contact and prolonged interaction that you can truly understand another species. Or begin to understand."  
  
Deliin's lips curved slightly. "I understand. Perhaps the Shaal'ra have been quick to judge in the past, based upon our limited experience with single-identity species. But I am a scientist. I do not judge those on _Voyager_. We can each only be true to our own nature, whether human, Shaal'ra, Trejemi, or hologram."  
  
The Doctor nodded in agreement. If only some weren't punished for their nature.  
  
"Doctor..." Deliin's gaze on him was thoughtful. "Do you have a subroutine adept in negotiating trade agreements?"  
  
"Certainly," the Doctor said. He'd never actually negotiated a trade agreement, but he could easily access the necessary knowledge. That was the another of the many advantages of a hologram, which so few in the universe seemed to appreciate.  
  
"I believe Tineel will be stopping by to talk with you later today."  
  
"I look forward to it."  
  
The Doctor watched Deliin exit Sickbay, and sat back in his chair, staring at the ceiling contemplatively. "Computer, resume log."  
  
_"I just received a visit from one of the identities of the Shaal'ra envoy. Her name is Deliin. She seems a true representative of her species--intelligent, composed and focused. We had a fascinating conversation. It is unfortunate Voyager is being escorted at a deliberate distance from the Shaal'ra homeworld. It would have been remarkable to meet more Shaal'ra and to observe their society. No doubt it is as peaceful and well-organized as the individual lives of its citizens.  
  
"Though it must be comforting to know one's exact role in society, and to have such a strong sense of self, I'm not sure I envy the Shaal'ra. Their lives appear to be very regimented. Most single-identity beings experience uncertainty about their purpose and goals, often searching for a sense of identity and belonging not fully provided by biology--a process made more difficult for someone of mixed heritage like Lieutenant Torres. Yet I don't believe anyone on Voyager would give up the ability to make their own choices, right or wrong, for any amount of security.  
  
"As for me, I find it curious that I started out much like the Shaal'ra--strongly defined by my programming. I was a doctor, with one purpose that never wavered. Then I began to expand my own programming, and now I am more like humans, making my own choices, some of which have undoubtedly been mistakes.  
  
"Yet I am not human any more than I am Shaal'ra, and I don't wish to be either. I like who I am, and what I am, and I deserve the same respect and recognition as any other being. I not only deserve it, I'm going to demand it.  
  
"End log."  
_  
*  



	4. Act 3

*  
  
**Act Three**  
  
Neelix always arrived at the Mess Hall well before the beginning of his shift, but today he was earlier than usual. Occasionally, one or two third shift crewmembers would be there taking a break, and during ship's alerts and other high tension periods when shifts overlapped, the Mess Hall was the scene of activity at all hours. But most of the time, Neelix found himself alone, enjoying the brief silence in his domain (and brief silence was as much as his gregarious nature desired), pondering what the day would bring as he brewed coffee and prepared breakfast.  
  
This morning he particularly looked forward to the familiar surroundings of the Mess Hall and his kitchen. He'd had a nightmare last night, inspired by the Doctor's holonovel. He dreamed he'd been turned into a real Ferengi, with horrid teeth, giant ears and all, and no one on _Voyager_ could figure out how to change him back. He'd seen his reflection in a mirror and had recoiled at the sight of the oversized bat staring back at him. He shuddered now at the memory.  
  
Neelix entered to find the lights dimmed and the room unoccupied, and he immediately noticed a strange, low-pitched sound. It wasn't any of the sounds he was familiar with--the soft drone of the engines that permeated the ship, the buzzing of the blender, or his own voice humming a Talaxian tune as he sometimes did in the early morning. Then he saw the blue glow of the force field.  
  
The carpet cleaner, which he'd heard addressed by several names, was busy scrubbing a section of carpet right next to the kitchen. Two of its attached arms slithered like snakes along the edge of the common wall. But what filled Neelix with dismay was the fact that the shimmering force field was blocking the entryway to his kitchen.  
  
Neelix rarely woke up in a bad mood, but after his restless night he'd felt almost grumpy as he'd dressed for the day. Generally, he could handle almost any situation without losing his temper. Being barred from his own kitchen wasn't one of them.  
  
"Computer, delete force field!"  
  
"That action requires authorization from Commander Chakotay or Ensign Jacob Ehsani."  
  
Conveniently, Ensign Ehsani worked the third shift. Neelix slapped his commbadge. "Ensign Ehsani, report to the Mess Hall immediately!"  
  
It only took Ehsani two minutes to reach the Mess Hall, during which time Neelix watched the shiny green machine do its work methodically and very slowly, as if it were deliberately taking its time allowing him access into his kitchen.  
  
"Ensign, why is this thing in here? According to the schedule, it was supposed to do the Mess Hall from 0200 to 0400." Neelix had checked to make sure it wouldn't interfere with his cooking routine.  
  
"It was. But Hydroponics had a plant due to bloom early this morning, and they didn't want the carpet cleaner to inadvertently suck up the spores, or something. So I moved Hydroponics on the schedule, which pushed everything else a couple hours back. The force field should be gone within ten minutes. Or maybe twenty, since this area is heavily traveled."  
  
"Twenty minutes?!" Neelix barked. Ehsani clearly didn't understand the gravity of the situation. "The captain will expect her coffee to be ready when she arrives! Delete the force field so I can get into my kitchen!"  
  
Ehsani looked a little taken aback at the outburst from the generally good-natured Talaxian. "I, uh....I don't know if I should do that without Commander Chakotay's permission."  
  
"Why did the commander put you in charge if you have to get his permission?" Neelix huffed.  
  
"Well, it depends on the problem..."  
  
"Mister Neelix. Ensign Ehsani. What _is_ the problem?"  
  
Both turned to see Tuvok studying them impassively. Tuvok was always one of the earliest arrivals in the Mess Hall. Neelix was often ready with a cup of his favorite blend of Vulcan tea. "I need to get in my kitchen, and the carpet cleaner has erected a force field across the entryway."  
  
"You could always request site to site transport," Ehsani suggested. "From the Mess Hall to the Mess Hall."  
  
Tuvok raised an eyebrow at Ehsani's grin. "Ensign, your suggestion is a logical one. Computer, lock onto Mister Neelix and transport him to ship coordinates five, fourteen, twenty-two."  
  
Neelix's mouth had dropped open and before he could close it he was standing in his kitchen. Tuvok moved over to the serving counter that was currently bisected by the force field, and rested his hands on it. "There is a second logical solution, Mister Neelix. You might have simply climbed over this clear section of the counter."  
  
"I was about to," Neelix mumbled. He hadn't actually thought of it. That dream had obviously muddled his brain.  
  
"Am I free to go now?" Ensign Ehsani asked. "I'm missing Morrow's account of the Doctor's holonovel debut last night. I heard it was pretty funny."  
  
"You may go, Ensign," Tuvok said.  
  
"I don't guess you found the holonovel funny, Mister Vulcan," Neelix said, as he set the teapot to boil. "You must have been insulted that T'Ubark was so incompetent."  
  
Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "I am not T'Ubark."  
  
Neelix wondered if Tuvok hadn't noticed the obvious resemblance he bore to the sullen Klingon in the Doctor's story, despite the latter's forehead ridges and sharp teeth. Why, T'Ubark even had a wife and four warrior children waiting at home for him. "So you don't think the Doctor was writing about us?"  
  
"The Doctor displayed limited creativity in his characterizations, however, the physical similarities are irrelevant. Given the unlikely events and characters in the holonovel, there is no difficulty distinguishing it as fiction-- frivolous and insignificant fiction--rather than a biographical account."  
  
Neelix pondered that for a moment as he steeped the tea. "I suppose you're right."  
  
"Right about what?" Sarexa asked as she joined them.  
  
Neelix smiled warmly at her. She was another who sometimes showed up quite early in the Mess Hall. They often enjoyed a lively discussion before the first shift began arriving for breakfast. "We were talking about the Doctor's holonovel."  
  
"I really wanted to see it," Sarexa said, sounding genuinely disappointed. "I haven't heard much about it yet, except that the Doctor apparently borrowed his characters from the crew and that it was 'farcical,' as Sam Wildman put it."  
  
"I guess you could call it that," Neelix agreed. He handed Tuvok his cup of tea. "Vulcan herb tea, Sarexa?"  
  
"Please," Sarexa said, as Tuvok nodded to them both, then headed for a table at the far side of the Mess Hall to review his morning security reports. Much as Neelix liked to engage the reticent Vulcan in conversation, he always respected Tuvok's morning ritual.  
  
"So, is it true the Doctor can't publish his novel because he's a hologram?" Sarexa asked, as Neelix poured her a cup of tea.  
  
"That's what the Doctor said. He isn't considered a 'person' by the Federation."  
  
"That seems very unfair."  
  
"You haven't seen the holonovel yet," Neelix joked, though he felt a twinge of sympathy for the Doctor.  
  
"That's beside the point. However good or bad the Doctor's writing may be, there shouldn't be any question about his right to publish his work. He's as much a person as anyone on _Voyager_."  
  
Neelix couldn't deny that. "You're right. I guess it really is unfair."  
  
"It shouldn't be allowed." Sarexa looked at Neelix closely as she took a sip of tea. "There must be something we can do about it, if the captain can't."  
  
Neelix pulled out a large pot. "I don't know what we could do."  
  
"We'll both think about it," Sarexa suggested. "In the meantime, tell me about the Doctor's holoprogram. Was I in it?"  
  
"Everyone was in it. You were a Berengarian, from a colony world in the Federation."  
  
"A Berengarian? I don't think I've read about them. Did my character do anything embarrassing?"  
  
"I don't recall you doing anything to endanger the ship, but you did annoy the captain once when you had some trouble keeping your dragon in your quarters."  
  
Sarexa's eyes widened. "I had a dragon?" She leaned her arms on the counter. "Tell me more."  
  
As Neelix prepared a breakfast of honey-sweetened oatmeal and the last of the Kesilian redfruit, he told Sarexa the whole story. He didn't notice the force field vanish or the carpet cleaner depart the Mess Hall. He did realize, as he talked and Sarexa laughed, that perhaps the Doctor's holonovel did have some merit after all.  
  
*  
  
Janeway sat behind her desk and looked curiously at the latest Shaal'ra identity, Tineel, who had appeared on the bridge with Lieutenant Rollins a few minutes earlier to request a private meeting. She waited for Tineel to sit before asking, "How can I help you?"  
  
"I may be able to help you, Captain. There may be a way to accommodate your request for a trade negotiation."  
  
Tineel's words were the last ones Janeway expected to hear. She had been convinced the Shaal'ra decision was final, and she'd elected not to push the issue. It was enough the Shaal'ra had agreed to let _Voyager_ cross their space and that they were a peaceful and agreeable species, if a reserved one. The four identities who were on _Voyager_ had thus far been polite and well behaved. The Shaal'ra had every right to their chosen isolation, Her crew would survive a limited diet and supplements until fresh food supplies could be replenished after their next jump.  
  
Janeway studied the Shaal'ra political analyst, who was dressed in charcoal gray pants and jacket, her dark hair gathered into a braid and looped once around her head. She wondered again if the hairstyles connoted position or status. "I was led to believe that arranging a trade was not a possibility, Tineel, but I welcome any change of heart on the part of the Shaal'ra."  
  
"I have to make the proposal first, Captain, but I believe when these new facts are known, the Supreme Council will allow the _Maruuk's_ traders to enter negotiations with your emergency trader hologram."  
  
"Emergency trader--you mean the Doctor?"  
  
"That is one of his identities," Tineel replied. "He assured Deliin that he also has a very capable trader, along with the several other identities he revealed in his autobiography."  
  
Autobiography? Janeway realized Tineel had to be talking about the Doctor's holonovel. Lizaat had been present at the premiere and had obviously had taken fiction for fact. Her first instinct was to groan, then correct the misinterpretation, but she also immediately saw the implication.  
  
"Tineel, I'm afraid the Doctor's holonovel wasn't completely factual--" Janeway paused. She didn't want to lie, but she didn't want to squander this opportunity either. "That is, in writing an autobiography, one often dramatizes certain aspects to increase its appeal to the audience."  
  
"I admit I have no knowledge of such dramatic compositions, but I assume the basic representation is accurate. Your emergency hologram possesses nearly a dozen identities, from doctor to engineer to command hologram, which he calls 'subroutines.' I am told he has in fact commanded your ship during the most trying moments."  
  
"He has been in command of _Voyager_ more than once," Janeway said truthfully.  
  
"Indeed, Lizaat and Deliin both deduced his great value to your ship. The fact that the EMH identity presides for long periods is unusual, though perhaps not for a hologram. No doubt the ECH is available to take over for you when the situation becomes critical."  
  
Janeway cleared her throat, swallowing her pride at the same time. "Yes, he is available."  
  
Tineel nodded sagely. "His presence makes it clear why you have survived such a long, perilous journey."  
  
"The Doctor has been instrumental in our survival," Janeway agreed. Of course, so had Chakotay, Torres, Paris, Tuvok, and Seven, to name a few. At some point, every crewmember had meant the difference between survival and annihilation.  
  
"We understand the Doctor's nature is different from our own," Tineel said. "The concept of a sentient hologram is unknown to us, but I believe I can convince the Shaal'ra council to accept the emergency hologram as a fully-fledged being. His trader identity would then be eligible to negotiate with our traders."  
  
Janeway tapped her commbadge. "Lieutenant Rollins." Rollins entered her Ready Room within moments. "Please give Tineel access to communications so she can speak with the Shaal'ra council."  
  
"Yes, Captain."  
  
The captain stood. "Tineel, I appreciate your efforts on our behalf."  
  
"No gratitude is necessary, Captain. Thank your EH. He has proved his worth once again."  
  
"I'll certainly do that," Janeway said. A few moments after Tineel left, her first officer entered. She'd expected he would be curious, and she gave him a quick rundown of Tineel's visit. "I have to admit," she said after she'd finished, "I feel a little uncomfortable with the deception."  
  
Chakotay shrugged. "The Doctor can perform multiple skills with ease. If he wanted to, I suppose he could split his subroutines and memory files into separate identities that are each unaware of the others. Therefore, you didn't lie."  
  
"Nice logic, Commander," Janeway said dryly. Then she shook her head. "Between the Doctor and the Shaal'ra, I'm starting to get an inferiority complex."  
  
"No, you're not."  
  
Janeway met Chakotay's knowing gaze. She smiled. "You're right. I'm not. The Shaal'ra are certainly one of the more interesting species we've encountered, but I can't say I envy them. While it might be advantageous for a society to have its people productive for twenty-four hours a day, where's the fun in that?"  
  
"Well, they must have personal relationships, and they have to reproduce. Presumably that would be fun."  
  
Janeway wasn't so sure. It was an odd thought, how the Shaal'ra might handle interpersonal relationships. She wondered if identities in two mated bodies were bonded individually in some way, or if it was more of a polygamous arrangement. "I guess I'm proprietary about my body. I can't imagine sharing it with several other identities."  
  
"Neither can I."  
  
Janeway gave Chakotay a sharp look, but couldn't tell from his guileless expression whether he was referring to his body, or hers. "In any case," she drawled, "I'm hoping if the Doctor is allowed to visit the _Maruuk_, he might influence the opinion of the Shaal'ra about single-identity species. After all, if the Doctor can accept _us_ as equals..."  
  
Chakotay chuckled. "I don't think we were exactly 'equals' in his holonovel. It's clear that the Shaal'ra are not very good at making the distinction between reality and fiction."  
  
"At least the Doctor's holonovel may serve a purpose other than inflaming the sentiments of the crew."  
  
"Oh, I don't know. A few were offended by the obvious caricatures, but most have considered the source and taken it as the small issue it is. Several were even laughing about it at breakfast."  
  
Janeway's eyebrows rose. "About it, or at it?"  
  
Chakotay shrugged. "Mostly about it. It does have a certain entertainment value." He grinned at Janeway's soft snort. "And the laugh factor is enough for most of the crew to brush off any perceived insult in the characters."  
  
Janeway knew Chakotay was one of them. There was little that could pierce his pride. She'd always admired his strong sense of self.  
  
"Naomi Wildman has also suggested that it would be nice to have a dog on _Voyager_."  
  
"A dog? On a starship?" Besides the fact that it would be a little hard to accomplish at this point, Janeway hoped Naomi would want a dog a little friendlier than the fictional Schweitzer.  
  
"You never heard of Captain Archer and Porthos?" Chakotay asked.  
  
"Of course, but that was another time." A time when a captain could bring his own dog into space with him. Though Janeway wasn't sure Starfleet rules expressly forbid it even now, that had gone out of style with Archer himself. She'd missed Molly terribly, especially in those first few months, and had imagined Molly's head on her lap, her tail wagging and eyes gazing soulfully up at her more than once. Still, she would never have considered bringing Molly, particularly in her condition. She could just imagine seven Irish Setters now wandering around _Voyager_\--  
  
"Kathryn?"  
  
Chakotay's gaze was sympathetic, as if he'd read her mind. He probably had. She shook her head. "Well, it's a good thing the crew isn't too upset with the Doctor's holonovel. At least I won't have to deal with anyone trying to string him up by his holographic neck over his narcissism."  
  
"The Doctor is actually capable of doing all those things the EH did in 'A Hero for the Times,'" Chakotay pointed out, "if the crew was really as inept as the crew on the _Valorous_."  
  
Janeway sighed. "Sometimes I do realize the Doctor is quite remarkable. And he certainly has proven his worth to _Voyager_. If only he didn't feel the need to constantly inflate his own importance."  
  
"He's insecure."  
  
"The Doctor?" Janeway started to laugh at Chakotay's simple statement. Then she realized he was right.  
  
"I can't really blame him," Chakotay said. "It must be hard to feel secure when you have no certain future and no right to self-determination. It's interesting that the Shaal'ra are willing to accept the Doctor as a sentient being, yet the Federation does not."  
  
Janeway stood. "I plan to bring up that very subject today with Starfleet."  
  
"They certainly won't give you a straight answer."  
  
Janeway met Chakotay's cynical look. He knew as well as she that Starfleet wasn't going to give her assurances about the fate of anyone on _Voyager_ until they arrived at Earth. "I can at least prod them to begin considering the issue."  
  
"You can," Chakotay agreed as he stood and joined her.  
  
"Since the crew is so blasé about the Doctor's holonovel, what about the carpet cleaning? I understand there have been half a dozen reports of lost items, along with complaints about the force field."  
  
Chakotay grinned crookedly. "A small price to pay for clean carpets, isn't it?"  
  
Janeway gave him an arch look. "I suppose I'd better not mention the walls could use a new coat of paint."  
  
"Just don't say the hull needs to be scraped. I have a feeling the crew would vote to send me out there to do it myself."  
  
Janeway couldn't resist. "Come to think of it, the hull is looking a little dull..."  
  
"Funny," Chakotay said, his eyes glinting. "The carpet cleaning should be finished by tomorrow night. When should we schedule that white glove inspection?"  
  
"I'll...let you know," Janeway murmured as she brushed deliberately past him. Then she strode out of the Ready Room, leaving him to follow, and to wonder at her meaning. At the moment she had duties to attend to, not the least of which was an insecure hologram.  
  
*  
  
Fourteen forty-one hours. It was almost time. Joe Carey took a deep breath to still his excitement and the feel of butterflies in his belly. Despite the letters exchanged back and forth and the video images he'd seen of his wife and sons, this was something altogether different. His sons had been little boys when he'd left, and now Joe Junior was a teenager. They were almost grown, and they'd done it without him. That loss had assaulted him regularly over the years, interrupting his sleep, dampening his triumphs, always there even during the best of times on _Voyager_. He'd missed so much that he could never get back.  
  
"Hey, Joe."  
  
Michael Ayala was already standing in front of the briefing room. Joe figured any nervousness he felt was minor to what Michael must be feeling. While his own family had been safe on Earth, Michael's had been incarcerated in Cardassian work camps. So far, only Michael's older son had been returned home alive--physically well, at least. Joe knew from Anne's letters that Luis was doing better, but the boy remained withdrawn and wary in many ways, and he still didn't speak.  
  
"Guess I'm a few minutes early."  
  
Joe smiled. "Me too. I've waited eight years for this, and I don't plan to miss a second of it."  
  
Michael nodded in agreement. Joe noticed the normally unflappable security officer was tapping his foot nervously. To break the tension, he said, "I heard you're assigned to the Shaal'ra envoy."  
  
Michael nodded. " 'Envoys' would be more accurate, though I've only met two of them, Lizaat and Deliin."  
  
Joe had heard about the unusual nature of the Shaal'ra, whom some of the crew had been referring to as the "multiple personality" aliens. It was a bizarre concept, several separate identities in one body, but he hadn't dwelled much on it. At lunch today, Sue also told him that his counterpart in the Doctor's holonovel was a surly Tellarite, and that B'Elanna had been on the warpath this morning because Engineering smelled like a "damned flower bed" from the carpet cleaning. Though it was all happening around him, he couldn't get too worked up about it. For the past couple of days his mind had been focused on one thing--his family. Even amidst preparations for the next slipstream jump, his only thought was how much faster the improved formula he'd devised would get him home to his wife and sons.  
  
"They seem friendly enough, if a little formal," Michael said, referring to the Shaal'ra. "They certainly follow every rule we've laid out to the letter. They seem interested in us, though they sure don't talk much about themselves..."  
  
Michael's voice trailed off as Marla Gilmore and Harry Kim walked out of the briefing room. Apparently Harry was already meeting the family. Marla looked relaxed and happy, and Joe was glad to see it. She and Harry both deserved some happiness. "How is your sister?"  
  
Marla smiled warmly. "She's really good, Joe."  
  
Harry squeezed Marla's hand surreptitiously, though Joe caught the gesture and the intimate look between them. "See you later. Joe, Michael..."  
  
"Enjoy, you two," Marla said, as Harry led Joe and Michael into the briefing room. They sat at the table as Harry moved to the console. A moment later, the Starfleet emblem on the viewscreen disappeared.  
  
"I'll be right outside if there are any problems," Harry said behind them.  
  
Joe barely heard the door close as the screen cleared and he saw his sons--and Anne. His Annie. A soft, radiant smile curved her lips as their eyes met. Her face had hardly changed over the years, except for a small line or two around her emerald green eyes. He looked at JJ, as tall as he was and with the same red hair; and Patrick, slender and gangly, with his mother's darker hair and green eyes. His heart ached at the sight of them. Then it soared.  
  
They would all be together soon now. For real. All these years of waiting and of missing them so desperately would be over.  
  
Joe looked at the dark-haired boy on the other side of Anne, the only one who wasn't smiling. The boy's expression was wary, and the tension in his body was palpable. He sat stiffly on the edge of his chair, as if he might bolt at the slightest provocation. Joe thought he saw a flicker of hope mixed with the apprehension in the boy's gaze as he looked at Michael. After all this time, it was obvious the boy was still afraid to believe his father was here. Joe recalled Annie's last letter, where she'd told him she sensed Luis was waiting for something specific to release him from his self-imposed silence.  
  
Joe met Annie's warm gaze again. Already a few seconds had passed. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her and that he couldn't wait to hold her. And his boys--how proud he was that they'd grown into such fine young men. He'd also tell them he'd finally finished the _Voyager_ in the bottle he'd promised them. In just a minute. But first...  
  
Annie nodded imperceptibly, reading his mind even through seven thousand light years of space. Joe put a hand on Michael's shoulder, and their eyes met briefly in understanding before Michael turned his gaze back to his son. Michael swallowed once, and Joe saw him blink away moisture from his eyes. Then Michael smiled, his face suffused with feeling as he said strong, clear voice, "Hello, son."  
  
Luis stared back at his father as Anne squeezed his hand in a gesture of support and encouragement. After several moments his rigid posture relaxed, and a shy, tentative smile touched his lips. His eyes registered both relief and a quiet joy as he said, in little more than a soft croak, "Hello, Dad."  
  
*  
  
The captain and Tineel walked into Sickbay just as the Doctor was finishing with his current patient. "Your ankle is as good as new, Lieutenant," the Doctor said as he turned off the osteoregenerator. "Next time remember that you have to step _down_ when you move from a shuttle to the deck of the shuttle bay."  
  
"Yes, sir," Chapman said, as he stepped gingerly off the biobed. He murmured a quick "thanks" and hurried out, nodding to the captain and Tineel as he left.  
  
"Lieutenant Chapman was working on the guidance system on the _Sacajawea_," the Doctor said, before Janeway could ask. "He realized it was time for lunch, and in his incomprehensible enthusiasm for Neelix's latest concoction, he apparently forgot where he was."  
  
Janeway smiled. "Mister Chapman can be a bit clumsy." The Doctor rolled his eyes at the understatement, as the captain continued, "Doctor, I believe you've met Tineel."  
  
The Doctor nodded. "Yes." Tineel had stopped by Sickbay with Lieutenant Rollins in tow an hour or so earlier to introduce herself, though she'd left without saying much else. "Is there something I can do for you?"  
  
"Tineel believes we may be able to arrange a trade with the Shaal'ra after all."  
  
"Really?" The Doctor smiled at Tineel. "I assure you, the crew will be very grateful. They always complain when they have to take extra supplements, though supplements are more than adequate for their nutritional needs."  
  
"If your trader identity is willing to conduct the negotiations, the Shaal'ra will accept him as _Voyager's_ trade representative," Tineel said.  
  
"My trader--"  
  
Janeway interrupted him. "Thanks to your holonovel, the Shaal'ra are now aware that you possess a number of different identities, Doctor, though you refer to them as subroutines. Thus it wouldn't violate their laws for your trader to engage in negotiations aboard the _Maruuk_."  
  
The Doctor read the message in the captain's eyes. Go along. "Of course I--my trader subroutine would be willing to represent _Voyager_."  
  
"I have already forwarded my request to the Council," Tineel said, "along with recommendations from Deliin and Lizaat. There are several supply routes nearby, so a ship could rendezvous with the _Maruuk_ within an hour, should the Council approve my request." She offered the Doctor a PADD. "I've detailed the Shaal'ra rules of trade negotiations for your perusal."  
  
"Thank you," the Doctor said. "I will be prepared."  
  
"When you visit the _Maruuk,_ I hope to have the opportunity to discuss with your ECH the influence of politics on starship operations," Tineel said. "Right now I will leave you to your business here."  
  
"Thank you again for your assistance, Tineel," the captain said. She waited for Tineel to depart before turning to the Doctor, eyebrows raised.  
  
"Captain, there appears to be some confusion among the Shaal'ra about my nature. I explained to Deliin that I have only one identity. I thought she understood."  
  
"Perhaps she did," the captain said. "And she simply emphasized the concept the Shaal'ra could understand."  
  
The Doctor met the captain's shrewd gaze. He recalled Deliin's request that they keep the full details of his nature between them. She'd meant to keep it from the other identities who shared her body. "Lizaat interpreted my holonovel as an autobiography."  
  
"So I heard." The captain's voice was dry. "Tineel seems to believe you are the sole reason we have managed to survive the many perils of the Delta Quadrant."  
  
The Doctor looked sheepish. "Of course I'm not. I explained it wasn't autobiographical, not completely--"  
  
"But many parts are, Doctor," Janeway said, "though I don't know that it was necessary to make the organic crew of the _Valorous_ so inept in contrast to the EH. Your capabilities are astounding enough without resorting to such tactics."  
  
The Doctor was stunned. "I...thank you, Captain. However, I did it not just for my benefit but for the benefit of all holograms." Truthfully, that had been a secondary focus, but he'd taken his publisher's rejection as a rejection of holograms in general. "I don't know if you realize that my very brethren, the decommissioned Mark Ones, have been relegated to working as virtual slaves in the several Federation mines."  
  
"Doctor, that won't happen to you," Janeway assured him. "I spoke with Starfleet about your situation this afternoon during the FTL briefing. They are taking the issue of your status under advisement. Such questions of sentience have historically been decided on a case by case basis. Not long ago, Lieutenant Commander Data of the _Enterprise_ was given sentient status and the right to self- determination. I won't be getting any real assurances from Starfleet until we get home, but I have no reason to doubt that you will be granted the same status."  
  
The Doctor knew very well that Starfleet was "hedging its bets," as Lieutenant Paris had put it, when it came to _Voyager_ and its crew. "Thank you, Captain. I hope you're right."  
  
"I am," Janeway replied with conviction. "In the meantime, I'd like you to work with Neelix on a list of supplies we need, in case the Shaal'ra council decides in our favor. Neelix has also done his fair share of trading, so he might be able to give you some pointers."  
  
The Doctor huffed at that. "I'm sure I can manage."  
  
The captain smiled. "So am I, Doctor. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment with Lizaat in half an hour in holodeck one. I'm going to introduce her to one of Earth's greatest artists."  
  
"Leonardo da Vinci?" the Doctor guessed.  
  
"Yes." Janeway smiled slyly. "Lieutenants Paris and Kim offered to introduce Lizaat to Captain Proton, but rank does have _some_ privileges. I'll let you know when I receive the Shaal'ra council's decision."  
  
After watching the captain depart, the Doctor returned to his office. While he appreciated her determination to aid him in gaining sentient status within the Federation, he knew that wouldn't be enough. He couldn't forget about all those Mark Ones working in mindless drudgery. Perhaps it could be argued that they were not like him, and that they lacked true self-awareness and the ability to self-evolve. So had he, at one time; but they had every potential to reach his level, if they were allowed the opportunity.  
  
First, they would need an advocate who could point out that potential, who understood their nature, and who could argue passionately for their rights. He was living proof that holograms could be every bit as sentient as any organic being. He'd experienced the same joys and heartaches, triumphs and failures, passions and desires as any organic. Given that, who could be a better advocate than him?  
  
The Doctor knew just the medium to make his strongest appeal. He picked up a PADD from his desk and started to work.  
  
*  
  
B'Elanna arrived home at 1920 hours to find her husband on the floor by the couch. Several weeks ago Miral started pulling herself up anywhere she could get a grip. Now she was gripping the coffee table as she glided along on her chubby little legs, using the table to keep herself balanced.  
  
"Walk to daddy, sweetheart," Tom said, his arms outstretched from where he crouched a meter or so away, just out of Miral's reach. "Show mommy you can do it."  
  
"She walked?" B'Elanna asked as she joined him, feeling a pang that she'd missed it. Miral had been thoughtful enough to say her first word with both of her parents present.  
  
"No, not yet. Every time she lets go she ends up on her butt. She's getting close though, aren't you, sweetie?"  
  
Miral let go of the table at that moment. Her legs wobbled as she attempted a shaky step and landed immediately on her butt.  
  
B'Elanna knelt down and kissed her daughter's dark curls. Miral wrapped her arms around her mother's neck, babbling as B'Elanna picked her up and hugged her. Then she handed Miral over to Tom.  
  
"How was your day?"  
  
"Long," B'Elanna answered as she walked toward the closet. "Sorry I'm a little late, but the warp matrix overflow system was acting up again." She kicked off her shoes. "I wanted to minimize any chance of being bothered during our time with your parents tomorrow."  
  
"If you get too busy tomorrow, it's no big deal. You'll meet them eventually."  
  
B'Elanna went still for a moment. When she turned around, Miral was blowing spit bubbles, something her father--who was smiling at her indulgently--had taught her. B'Elanna dropped her jacket and held out her arms. "I'll take her."  
  
B'Elanna balanced her daughter on her hip, bouncing her lightly in one arm. Then she reached out with the other hand and shoved Tom in the chest. He fell backward on the bed with a soft "oomph", and stared up at her in astonishment.  
  
"What was that for?!"  
  
B'Elanna smiled at Miral and wiped a smudge off her cheek before looking at Tom. "For being a jerk. For acting like you don't care, and like I shouldn't care. For saying my meeting your parents isn't a big deal."  
  
"B'Elanna, I didn't mean--"  
  
"That's always your line, Tom." B'Elanna felt her temper simmering, but she kept it under control for Miral's sake. "Everything is no big deal to you. You can take it or leave it."  
  
"That's not true--"  
  
"I'm supposed to believe that it's no big deal talking to your parents--to your father," she amended. Tom's mother had always been solidly supportive of her son when Tom had allowed her to be part of his life. "Then why were you so eager to trade your time with Harry?"  
  
"Because Harry was disappointed in his draw. My father and I are fine now. We've been writing letters. You know we've reconciled."  
  
"Right," B'Elanna said. Miral was squirming and B'Elanna set her on the carpet just as she started to fuss. Then she looked at Tom again and crossed her arms. "You haven't talked to your father face to face in...nine years?"  
  
Tom shrugged as he sat up. "More or less."  
  
"And this will be the first time in fifteen or more years you'll be talking to him as someone who isn't a drunken reprobate, a self-absorbed and self-pitying loser."  
  
Tom winced. "Geez, don't mince words, B'Elanna."  
  
"I didn't. But you're not that person anymore, Tom. You've turned yourself around and put that all behind you. You're...well, respectable now."  
  
"Ouch. That hurts even more."  
  
B'Elanna glared at him. "This isn't a joke, Tom. Tell me the truth. Tell me you're not at all apprehensive about talking to your father again."  
  
Tom tensed and for a moment she thought he wasn't going to reply. "I _have_ been talking to him in letters. Besides, don't you think I'm a little too old to care what my father thinks?"  
  
Those letters between Tom and his father were cordial, even affectionate in moments, if one looked hard enough, but they contained no mention of the past. She knew this was different than writing letters. "You may not need his approval anymore, Tom, but you'll never be too old to want to mend your relationship with him. He's your father. You can't dismiss him, or pretend the state of that relationship doesn't affect you." B'Elanna smiled bitterly. "I know."  
  
Tom reached for her hand, but B'Elanna put her hands on her hips. "Tell you what, Tom. If you talk to your father, when it's my turn, I'll talk to my father."  
  
Tom stared at her for several moments, eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to figure out the punch line. The only sound was Miral's hands slapping the bed where she'd pulled herself up, unaware of her parents' sudden silence. B'Elanna wondered with sudden dismay what the hell had possessed her to utter those words. Tom was already going to talk to his father, indifferent attitude or not. Her response to the one letter she'd received from her father had been barely cordial. Why would she want to actually talk to him after all this time when just writing that one letter had been so difficult?  
  
"Deal." Tom's eyes bored into hers as he spoke, as if daring her to change her mind. It made B'Elanna feel cornered, and she snarled, "Fine!"  
  
"Unless you really don't want to, B'Elanna."  
  
"Tom!" B'Elanna bit off a frustrated growl at her husband's earnest expression. She supposed there was some subconscious motivation behind her offer, some reason she wanted to repair her troubled relationship with her father, too, even if he didn't deserve it. She sighed. "I want to, okay?"  
  
Tom grinned at her belligerent tone. When he reached for her hand, she let him pull her toward him, until she was standing between his legs. "When the time comes, _we'll_ talk to your father, B'Elanna. Just like we'll talk to my mother and father."  
  
"Okay," B'Elanna agreed.  
  
"I'm sorry if I was dismissive. I do want you to meet my parents, B'Elanna."  
  
B'Elanna nodded. "Just don't shut me out. We're in this together now."  
  
"I know. I wouldn't want it any other way. I promise I'll do better."  
  
"In that case I guess I'll forgive you." B'Elanna leaned down and touched her lips to his.  
  
"Dada!"  
  
Tom and B'Elanna turned to look at Miral, who was staring intently at B'Elanna's discarded uniform jacket. She had one hand on the bed to balance herself, and before either of her parents could say anythingshe let go and took three unsteady steps toward the jacket. Then she fell on the floor, close enough for her little hands to grab onto the shiny pips that had caught her attention.  
  
"Miral, you walked!"  
  
Tom's shout was nearly deafening as he hopped off the bed and scooped Miral into his arms. "You walked!" he repeated, looking with wonder at his daughter, who was grinning from ear to ear. "And you wanted us to see, didn't you?"  
  
B'Elanna wasn't sure about that. Or, maybe it was true. She smiled at Miral and kissed her cheek. "I'm proud of you too, sweetie." Then she noticed Tom's expression change at he stared down at his daughter. "What?"  
  
"It's just going so fast," Tom murmured, as he pressed his lips to Miral's forehead.  
  
B'Elanna understood what he meant. It seemed like Miral had just been a tiny baby in her arms, and now here she was, starting to talk and walk. She sighed in agreement. "It is, but we're enjoying every minute, aren't we?"  
  
Tom smiled at B'Elanna's question. "Yes, we are. Come on, Miral," he said. "It's time for your bath."  
  
Miral squealed with delight. There was nothing she liked better than splashing water all over the bathroom. B'Elanna watched Tom carry their daughter in that direction. "Tom..."  
  
He looked back. "Yeah?"  
  
"If you are even one minute late tomorrow, I'll break your nose."  
  
Tom grinned at her. "Yes, ma'am." He disappeared into the bathroom, though B'Elanna could still hear his words. "Mommy's almost as scary as Captain Janeway..."  
  
Smart-ass. She knew Tom would be on time tomorrow, threats or not. At one time she wouldn't have counted on it, despite loving him, but he _had_ changed. Even if he sometimes backslid--well, she'd had her moments too. She supposed the trick was that they kept working at it.  
  



	5. Act 4

*  
  
**Act Four**  
  
"Lieutenant Paris. My Ready Room. Now."  
  
Captain Janeway spoke in her most authoritative voice and headed straight for her Ready Room without detouring to the lower level of the bridge. She saw Tom's startled gaze and wide eyes as he glanced at Chakotay and then Kim. She was seated behind her desk by the time he entered, not dawdling, but not hurrying either, full of that natural Paris outward composure--something he had in common with his father.  
  
"Sit down, Mister Paris."  
  
Tom did as told, again at his own easy pace, though his brow was furrowed as if he was trying to figure out what he might have already done wrong so early in the morning.  
  
"I understand you will be talking to your family today, Lieutenant."  
  
Tom was silent for a moment, as if he hadn't understood her words. "Uh...yes."  
  
"Are you looking forward to it?"  
  
It was several seconds again before Tom spoke. "Captain, if you've decided you want to trade numbers, I don't think I can. Icheb and B'Elanna are both going to be there, and I wouldn't want to disappoint them. Not to mention, B'Elanna would kill me."  
  
"I don't want to trade with you, Lieutenant." Janeway leaned back in her chair, making herself comfortable. "I just thought it was far past time we had a personal chat." She rather enjoyed Tom's flustered expression. It wasn't easy to disconcert him, but it was worth it when she succeeded. "Relax, Tom."  
  
Tom didn't alter his posture. "Exactly what are we chatting about, Captain?"  
  
"Your father."  
  
"My...Captain--"  
  
"We've been on this ship together for almost eight years, Tom, and we've never had a _real_ conversation about your father. Oh, you've mentioned him a few times, and I've brought up his name once or twice too. Yet we've shied away from talking in any depth about the man who's had a profound influence on both our lives. Why do you think that is?"  
  
"Because...we didn't want to?"  
  
Janeway smiled. Despite Tom's flippancy she suspected he was speaking the truth in his case. "As for my own reason, I think in the beginning I assumed our perspectives were too far apart to allow a meaningful conversation."  
  
"Or maybe you thought that I'd say something to tarnish your image of my father," Tom suggested, with less flippancy this time.  
  
"Or maybe I didn't want to intrude on your feelings, or devalue them," Janeway countered. "He was your father, after all; and though we knew the same man, we knew different aspects of him." Different enough that he could seem like two separate people at times. Janeway realized the irony, considering their visitors. "Still, I was once ready to invite you to dinner so we could talk seriously about your father. That was right after you told me how he squelched your childhood dream to join the Federation Naval Patrol. Then I never quite got around to it."  
  
"You mean, I blew it," Tom corrected with a rueful smile. "That's another thing we never talked about again."  
  
No, they hadn't. Janeway shrugged. "You served your sentence, and it was over."  
  
"Right." Tom looked at her curiously. "Permission to speak freely, Captain?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"I've always wondered why you put me in the brig instead of confining me to quarters."  
  
Janeway was silent. Tom was an admiral's son, and he was familiar with Starfleet regulations. He was aware that she could have confined him to quarters for his actions, as she had with others who'd broken the rules. As she might have done then, if it had been anyone but him. He'd never asked her then why she didn't. "Several reasons. One was that I was very angry. I took your actions personally, which was probably wrong of me. That's not an apology, Tom," she added, at his startled look. "You deserved that punishment. You forced me to fire on your ship, and you threw my faith in you back in my face..." She didn't mention how deep that wound had felt at the time. "But I also saw a glimpse of the person I'd hoped you were becoming, and I wanted to force you back on the right path. Strangely enough, it was the fact that you broke the rules for something you believed in that was the deciding factor. Angry as I was, and much as I felt you'd betrayed my trust, that made me believe you still had a chance, _if_ I was hard on you."  
  
Tom smiled wryly. "I guess it worked. I know I was wrong. I regret that I compromised your faith in me, but when I was in the brig, I felt...well, good about myself, despite where I was. It was a turning point for me. When I wasn't going crazy."  
  
Janeway doubted Tom had any idea how hard his confinement had been for her. She'd gone to see him almost two weeks after she'd had him locked in the brig. By that time, the Doctor had dropped several not so subtle hints about the physical and psychological effects of solitary confinement without actually championing Tom's release openly. When she'd looked in on Tom, he'd been asleep--not a relaxed sleep, but a restless sleep. He'd looked pale and tired. She had walked away quickly to stop herself from relenting and releasing him right then, but the next day, she'd granted Harry's pending request to visit.  
  
"I even used the time to write my father a letter."  
  
Janeway looked at Tom. He'd never told her that, but why would he? "What did you say?"  
  
"I let him know I was in jail again, and why. I left it up to him to take it how he wanted."  
  
"Did you send it?" Janeway asked. Though Admiral Paris would have learned of Tom's infractions through the official logs, she was curious.  
  
"It went out with the first datastream transmission. I wasn't sure how he'd take it, but he's never mentioned it. I'm sure he didn't approve of what I did, but I guess he accepted my reasons."  
  
And perhaps accepted his son's independence, including the right to make, and pay for, his own mistakes. "I'm not surprised. Your father is a man with high standards, but I don't think they are unreasonable."  
  
Tom shrugged. "It didn't always feel that way when I was a kid. It seemed like nothing I did was quite good enough for him. I always could have done a little better, by his measure. He had his dreams for me, and he never asked me about mine. And after he came back from--uh, anyway..."  
  
Janeway could tell from Tom's flush what he'd been about to say. "After he was a prisoner of the Cardassians," she said.  
  
Tom nodded slowly. "He was different, which was to be expected. He never talked about his experience. All he was interested in was his work and preparing me to follow in his footsteps. I was just starting high school. He made sure I only took courses geared to getting into the Academy, refused to let me join any extracurricular sports that weren't featured at the Academy, and didn't talk to me for days if I got a B instead of an A on a test. Really, he didn't talk to me at all, except to tell me I wasn't doing good enough. I wanted him to talk to me, or at least listen to me."  
  
"Tom..." Janeway's voice was compassionate.  
  
Tom cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Captain. I shouldn't be telling you this. It had to be hard on my father, what happened to him. And to you. I shouldn't have brought it up--"  
  
"It's fine," she said, though it still hurt to remember that time. "It _was_ hard on your father, not so much his own torture, but that he couldn't protect his crew. But you were only thirteen years old, Tom. He probably wanted to protect you from it. Even when he was pushing you to do more, he was always proud of you. He often said so."  
  
"He never told me so," Tom said softly. His voice turned harsh. "Then I made sure he couldn't after Caldik Prime."  
  
This was the first time Tom had ever said those two words in her presence. When she'd first heard about the accident, she'd felt sorry for both Admiral Paris and his son. Later, after she'd heard about Tom's confession to lying, she'd been angry the admiral had been saddled with such a son after all he'd already gone through. She'd figured Tom Paris had no right to any sympathy, and that he deserved to suffer every bit of guilt and shame he hopefully felt. She hadn't considered his life or anything that might have led to his actions--both lying and then freely confessing. But years later, when she'd asked Admiral Hayes to assign Tom Paris to _Voyager_ as an observer, she'd done it because she'd hoped he could start to redeem himself. Admittedly, she'd acted originally for the benefit of his father, but it was Tom's well-being that soon had become her priority.  
  
Tom sighed. "I've come to realize that however much I blamed my father for the pressure he put me under, my actions were my own choice. He didn't make me lie, or to join the Maquis."  
  
"That's true," Janeway said. "But you've changed, Tom. You've earned my faith back and more, and you've reached the potential I always hoped was there. What's more, your father knows you've reached that potential--not his, but your own. He's changed, too, you know."  
  
Tom nodded. "I know. I just hope it's enough."  
  
"You can't erase the past, Tom. But you and your father can move on, if you both want to; and from what I've seen, you both do." The letters she'd received from Owen Paris had left her with no doubt about his feelings. He was deeply grateful for a second chance with his son. "This is just another step in the healing process."  
  
Tom gave her an odd look. "Yes, ma'am."  
  
"Good. I think we're done..." Janeway noticed Tom's lips twitching. "Something amusing you, Tom?"  
  
"Uh, no..."  
  
"Out with it, Mister Paris."  
  
"I was just thinking that the Doctor knew what he was doing when he made Captain Fayray a Betazoid."  
  
Janeway scowled at his impish grin. "Not funny. Get back to your post, Lieutenant."  
  
Tom wiped the smile off his face as he stood. "Yes, ma'am." He strode to the door in that studied stride, then stopped as it opened and looked back at her. "Captain..."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Tom was out the door before she could reply. She shook her head, trying to keep from smiling. A Betazoid. Fat chance. She was lucky if she could read her own mind half the time, though she knew that wasn't what Tom had meant.  
  
She had only told Tom the truth. He had succeeded in redeeming himself, more than she might have thought possible at one time. As much as he'd changed, so had Owen Paris. She'd known Admiral Paris had never abused his son in any way, but he had heaped his own expectations on Tom and had demanded his son be someone he wasn't instead of allowing Tom to be himself.  
  
Janeway knew Tom would never be an admiral like his father, not because he lacked the ability, but because such a bureaucratic job would stifle him. He loved to fly; he was a fine field medic; and he had enough imagination and holoprogramming skill to rival the Doctor as a holonovelist if he so chose--though god knew, she didn't want two of them on her ship right now. She hoped Owen Paris would see his son's real gifts and would rejoice that Tom had found true contentment with his life--not just with his work, but with his wife and child. No medal or admiralship could compare to that accomplishment.  
  
_"Chakotay to Janeway."_  
  
Janeway touched her commbadge. "Yes, Commander."  
  
_"Captain Naseev is hailing us. He would like to relay the council's decision to you."_  
  
"On my way."  
  
Janeway strode to the bridge, hoping the answer would be the one she expected.  
  
*  
  
"How do I look?" the Doctor asked.  
  
Tuvok simply raised an eyebrow, while Janeway stared at the brilliantly colored robes the Doctor had donned. "I think you'll pass inspection, Doc--uh, trader."  
  
Metaar didn't appear to notice Janeway's slip, or if she did, she didn't attach any importance to it. "Your attire is quite appropriate," she told the Doctor. Then she turned to Janeway. "Thank you for your hospitality."  
  
"You are welcome, Metaar. It has been a pleasure having you here, as well as Lizaat, Deliin and Tineel. I hope we've left you with a good impression."  
  
"Your close association with a complex being like the EH reflects highly upon your crew, Captain."  
  
"Thank you," Janeway replied smoothly, though Tuvok recognized the slightly sardonic inflection in her voice. The Doctor, surprisingly, didn't gloat at Metaar's words, perhaps because he was preoccupied with his impending visit. He had assured the captain he was prepared for the negotiations and had received a list of items from Mister Neelix and Lieutenant Torres to be acquired, if possible, and those _Voyager _possessed for bartering to the Shaal'ra in exchange. Tuvok suspected the Doctor's preoccupation was a result of his interest in the Shaal'ra people and culture. He understood and applauded the Doctor's desire for knowledge.  
  
"Once the trade is finalized, the _Liduun_ will move into position to exchange goods via transporter."  
  
The _Liduun_ was already approaching, and Tuvok had placed the ship on constant monitor status. He expected no aggression or deceit from the Shaal'ra, but it was his duty to take every precaution.  
  
"We'll be ready," Janeway said.  
  
"Shouldn't we get going?" the Doctor asked, not hiding his impatience.  
  
"Have a good trip, Doctor," Janeway said as he and Metaar stepped on the transporter platform. Tuvok initiated the transport sequence, and a moment later the two disappeared.  
  
Janeway sighed, perhaps in relief. "If all goes well, we should be on our way soon with a full supply of fresh food. And we'll have the Doctor to thank for it."  
  
"Indeed, though his accomplishment today does not compare with the feats of his holonovel protagonist."  
  
Janeway smiled at Tuvok's dry tone. "No, I suppose not."  
  
Tuvok followed her out of the transporter room. "Captain, I am curious. You seem to be taking this situation more calmly than would be expected."  
  
Janeway stopped and stared at her security chief. "Am I generally hysterical, Tuvok?"  
  
Tuvok's eyebrow rose. "No, Captain. However, you are not always adept at suppressing your feelings. I intend no offense."  
  
Janeway resumed walking. "None taken."  
  
"You often have little patience with the Doctor's egotism, and the Shaal'ra continue to greatly inflate the Doctor's value to _Voyager,_ based on his holonovel."  
  
She smiled wryly. "I've swallowed my pride before when dealing with the cultural biases of alien races. I can't blame the Doctor for that, and his holonovel is the reason he's over there right now securing needed supplies. I've also begun to realize that I've probably helped fuel the Doctor's need to boost his ego constantly. I've never really treated him as a person. I reprogrammed him once without his knowledge or permission, and I absolved him of responsibility for deserting to the hologram ship when any other crew member would have been in the brig for months for the same infractions."  
  
"You regretted your first action," Tuvok noted.  
  
"And more or less repeated my bad judgment in the second." Tuvok didn't refute that, and Janeway shook her head. "Here I am, expecting Starfleet to grant him sentient status, and by my own actions I haven't always done so myself. Now I'm wondering how much my actions might hurt his cause."  
  
"I trust Starfleet will make a decision based on all the facts, Captain. Most sentient beings have an inborn prejudice for their nature over any different one, which leads to shortsightedness. For the Shaal'ra, it is single-identity beings; and for you, it has been the holographic nature of the Doctor. With experience and effort, one can learn to overcome such prejudices."  
  
Janeway nodded, then looked at Tuvok. "I suppose the Vulcans don't have such prejudices, given the IDIC philosophy."  
  
Tuvok's eyebrow rose. "We overcame them." He elected not to volunteer how recently Vulcans had achieved a true adherence to IDIC.  
  
"Join me for lunch?" Janeway asked, as they stopped in front the turbolift.  
  
"Thank you, Captain, but I am scheduled to speak to my family over the FTL link at fourteen thirty-four hours. I wish to prepare."  
  
Janeway gave him a genuinely pleased smile. "I understand." She touched his arm briefly, then stepped into the turbolift. "Give T'Pel my regards."  
  
"I will do so, Captain." Tuvok watched the turbolift doors close before moving down the corridor. As usual he had many matters to contemplate: from status reports to security upgrades to the phaser bank refit. Yet he was finding it difficult to concentrate today. Vulcans were not impatient, but Tuvok found the anticipation of speaking with T'Pel and their children was inhibiting his logical thought processes. His current state was perilously close to an emotional reaction. He knew he should immediately meditate to reassert his Vulcan mental disciplines.  
  
After a moment's consideration he decided against it. This once, he would allow this small, pleasant feeling of anticipation to remain inside him. No one else need ever know.  
  
*  
  
Tom strode toward the briefing room, trying to will away his memories. Though he didn't want to, he couldn't stop himself from recalling the last words he and his father had spoken directly to each other, when he was being led away from court to be transported to New Zealand. His mother and father had been in the hallway, his mother in tears. He couldn't bring himself to look at her. Instead he'd looked at his father, who had looked back, his expression rigid and forbidding.  
  
For one desperate moment, Tom had wanted to throw himself at his father and beg for forgiveness. He'd wanted his father to take him in his arms and tell him that it would be okay, and that he still loved him. Then his father had spoken.  
  
"You've made your choice, Thomas. You've worn out your welcome as my son."  
  
Tom had smirked, and in one last gesture of defiance he said in a mocking voice, "Go to hell..._Dad_."  
  
He'd thought he heard his mother call his name as he walked away, but he couldn't be sure through the sudden dizziness that made his head swim. He'd stumbled, and one of the guards escorting him had roughly steadied him. At that moment, he'd known with certainty that it was all gone. His life, his future, his family...  
  
Even after all these years, recalling the intensity of that exchange and the harsh finality of their words to each other made Tom break out in a sweat. He swallowed as he approached the briefing room. He was the first to arrive. That fact almost made him smile when he thought of the unlikelihood. Almost, but not quite.  
  
"Hey, Tom."  
  
Harry strode toward him, grinning. "You're early."  
  
Tom shrugged. "I figured I could do it once in my life. So, you okay doing this, Harry?"  
  
"Wha--oh, sure. I'm eager to talk to my parents, but it's fun to see everyone so happy after seeing their families."  
  
At that moment Icheb appeared, carrying Miral. "B'Elanna asked me to get Miral. She got detained in Engineering, but she promised to be here on time."  
  
Tom wondered why B'Elanna hadn't called him. She'd probably been worried he'd end up being late. He smiled at his daughter, who was squirming in Icheb's arms. Seeing her always gladdened his heart and reminded him of how much he truly had. "Hey, angel."  
  
Miral responded with an enthusiastic "Dada!" as Tom took her from Icheb. Then he patted Icheb's shoulder. "No need to look so nervous."  
  
"I am not nervous," Icheb said.  
  
Right. Maybe it was just him. "You won't have to say much. Mom will do most of the talking," Tom assured Icheb.  
  
"Tom's told me his mother is the kind of person who includes everyone," B'Elanna said as she joined them. She straightened the strap of Miral's red jumper and kissed her cheek.  
  
"Glad you made it," Tom said softly.  
  
"There was no chance I'd miss it," B'Elanna said, slipping her arm through his.  
  
The door to the briefing room opened and Tuvok walked out, his expression imperturbable as ever. "How is your family, Tuvok?" Harry asked.  
  
"They are well."  
  
"I'm sure they were happy to talk to you," Tom said.  
  
"They were...pleased. As was I to speak with them."  
  
Was that the barest hint of emotion he heard in Tuvok's voice? Tom smiled. "I'm glad it went well."  
  
Tuvok's eyebrow rose. "Thank you, Lieutenant. I wish you equal success."  
  
Tom hoped so, too, as he followed Harry, B'Elanna and Icheb into the briefing room. While they took seats at the table, Harry moved to the console. Tom let Miral sit on the table, putting his hands around her to keep her from wandering.  
  
"Okay, I'll back in five minutes," Harry said from behind them. Tom felt Harry's hand squeeze his shoulder briefly. "Enjoy."  
  
Tom busied himself for a moment pulling Miral back as she tried to crawl away. When he looked up, his parents were on the screen.  
  
"Tom."  
  
Tom immediately met his mother's gaze. She was smiling, her blue eyes glistening.  
  
"You look wonderful."  
  
The last time she'd seen him, in that corridor as he was being led away to prison, he knew he'd looked drained and defeated, as if he'd thrown his soul away. That's how he'd felt. Her tears then had been tears of sorrow. She had tears in her eyes now, but they were tears of joy. Tom's eyes grew damp as he realized how desperately he'd missed her, not just since he'd been on _Voyager,_ but during all those years before when he'd refused to come home. He felt B'Elanna's hand close over his.  
  
"Hi, Mom," he said softly. "You look wonderful, too."  
  
She did. She looked the same as he remembered her. "You must be Miral," she said, as Miral stared back at her in fascination. "I can't wait to hold you." She glanced up at Tom, her smile tremulous. "She's beautiful. And I can see why."  
  
Alicia Paris transferred her gaze to B'Elanna, her regard warm. "You're as lovely as Tom said you were. Tom got his good taste from me. Welcome to the family."  
  
"Yes, welcome, B'Elanna," Owen Paris added, speaking for the first time. "And you too, Icheb. Alicia and I have looked forward to meeting you both."  
  
B'Elanna smiled as Icheb said, "It's good to meet you, sir. And ma'am."  
  
Tom knew his mother would put a stop to that form of address soon.  
  
"And welcome to you, Miral."  
  
Tom couldn't avoid it any longer. He looked at his father. Owen Paris was smiling gently at his granddaughter. "Look, Alicia," he said. "She has her father's eyes." Then he looked up.  
  
Tom and his father stared at each other silently and warily, at least on Tom's part. It seemed like all the moments, good and bad, and all the words they'd ever said to each other were right there between them. The tension was palpable, and even Miral lapsed into stillness. Moments passed, while Tom noticed that his father looked older and not as invincible as he'd always seemed. His gaze was softer, his posture more relaxed.  
  
"Hello, son."  
  
His father spoke first. Then he smiled, a genuine smile, and there was no censure in his gaze, no disappointment or disgust, as there had been nine years ago. There was only happiness and pride.  
  
Tom realized his father hadn't addressed him as "Lieutenant" or "Thomas" or even "Tom," but as "son." The fear he'd denied, that the past would shadow this reunion, that his father would still be unable to completely forgive all that had gone between them before--that _he_ would be unable to forgive it--Tom realized it was unfounded. Suddenly, it was as if the past had never happened--or as if it had, but it didn't matter anymore. They were still father and son--and always would be, no matter what.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Tom saw Icheb's smile he felt B'Elanna squeeze his hand harder, while Miral grasped a handful of his shirt, trying to get his attention. His lips curved slowly as he returned his father's smile. Then he spoke the words he hadn't said in nine years, and hadn't spoken without anger, or guilt, or disdain for even longer--words that now seemed inordinately precious to him.  
  
"Hey, Dad."  
  
*  
  
Janeway pressed her commbadge. "Transporter room?"  
  
The reply was immediate. _"The Doctor is on board."_  
  
"Very good, Ensign. Tell him I'm very eager to read his final report."  
  
_"I will, Captain."_  
  
"I guess that's it," Chakotay said, as Janeway closed the link. "The Doctor is back, and we're on our way out of Shaal'ra space."  
  
The Doctor had been gone almost twenty-four hours. Though the trade negotiations had been successfully completed in a few hours, he had asked to remain on the _Maruuk_ until _Voyager_ reached the border of Shaal'ra space, which was where they were right now. Janeway had gladly granted his request, happy to let him continue as ambassador to the Shaal'ra.  
  
In the meantime, B'Elanna and Neelix had supervised the successful transfer of trade goods between the _Liduun_ and _Voyager_. The vacuum-sealed storeroom next to the kitchen was now filled to the brim with fresh fruits and vegetables.  
  
"Captain, we are being hailed by the _Maruuk_."  
  
Janeway nodded to Tuvok. "Put it on the screen."  
  
Captain Vatiik, another one of the _Maruuk's_ four captains, appeared. She held out her hands, palms up, in the Shaal'ra manner of greeting. _"Captain Janeway, your ship is clear to travel alone from here."  
_  
"Thank you, Captain Vatiik. We appreciate your escort and your hospitality to our trader."  
  
_"You are welcome, Captain Janeway. I am told the ETH is a persuasive bargainer. The ECH is also a remarkable captain. We had a most interesting exchange of ideas."_  
  
Janeway knew the Doctor had switched "identities" frequently aboard the _Maruuk_ to facilitate his interactions with the Shaal'ra. During one of his updates, he'd wondered out loud why he hadn't tried it before. She'd decided immediately that a talk about his singular role as CMO would be in order upon his return. "I'm glad you found his presence agreeable," she said.  
  
_"We regret he could not spend more time here,"_ Captain Vatiik replied. _"We must depart now. I wish you a good journey to your home. Should you or other members of your Federation pass this way again, the Maruuk would be pleased to escort you through our space."  
_  
Janeway figured "pleased" was a definite improvement over the reluctant willingness they'd originally shown. Perhaps one day the Federation would count the Shaal'ra as allies. "We appreciate your offer. A good journey to you also."  
  
Captain Vatiik's image disappeared from the screen, and a few moments later the _Maruuk_ moved away. Janeway addressed the helm. "Mister Paris, lay in our course, warp seven."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
After a few seconds of silence, Harry Kim spoke. "Looks like the Doctor made himself pretty popular with the Shaal'ra."  
  
"To the benefit of our diet," Tom replied, grinning.  
  
"And to the benefit of possible future relations," Chakotay added.  
  
"The Doctor may not be a hero for the times, but he's a hero this time in my book," Tom said.  
  
Harry snorted. "Do you ever think about anything but your stomach, Tom?"  
  
"Sure, when I'm full."  
  
"I think the Doctor would settle for just being considered a person," Chakotay said.  
  
"It is unfortunate the Federation legal code is insufficient in recognizing the full range of sentience," Tuvok said.  
  
"It is unfair," Harry agreed. "But I'm not all that sorry his holonovel got rejected."  
  
"Come on, Harry," Tom said. "It has potential. It could spawn a whole series. Don't you want to be twice famous?"  
  
"Nope. Once famous is enough for me."  
  
"If I can handle being confused with Don London, you can handle being confused with Derry Whim."  
  
"But could you handle being confused with Fayray?" Chakotay asked Janeway in a low voice, as she watched her young officers bantering back and forth.  
  
"I could probably live it down," Janeway said. "But it's a moot point."  
  
"Maybe not. The Doctor could always get it published once he is granted sentient status. Or even before."  
  
Janeway stared at Chakotay. "Before?"  
  
"Two members of the crew came up with the idea of having someone on _Voyager_ sign the contract with the Doctor, to make it legal. They started gathering signatures yesterday in support of the idea."  
  
"Signatures?" Janeway wondered why she hadn't heard about this. "How many?"  
  
Chakotay shrugged. "Half the crew at least, probably more. They didn't approach you because they didn't want to compromise your position."  
  
"Compromise..." Janeway frowned. "Who came up with this idea?" Her eyes narrowed on Chakotay. "You?"  
  
Chakotay shook his head. "Not me. Your morale officer."  
  
Janeway wasn't surprised. Neelix was a bleeding heart.  
  
"And..." Chakotay nodded toward the helm, where Tom was still engaged in a conversation with Harry.  
  
"Our Voyager fame might wear off some day," Tom was saying. "Don't you want some back up notoriety?"  
  
Harry snorted.  
  
"It would add a little mystery to your image, Har."  
  
Tom Paris. Despite their often adversarial relationship, Tom and the Doctor had a lot in common. And they were genuinely fond of each other, even if it sometimes took a nanoscope to see it. Janeway supposed it made sense.  
  
"Chakotay, you have the conn," Janeway said as she rose. "Mister Paris, once you've finalized the course calculations, have Ensign Culhane relieve you so you can report to Sickbay. I'm sure the Doctor would like to know what's been happening while he's been gone."  
  
Tom looked surprised, probably because as acting CMO, he'd barely stepped foot in Sickbay over the past twenty-four hours, but he nodded. "Yes, ma'am."  
  
"And stop by my Ready Room on the way."  
  
Janeway didn't wait for his acknowledgment before she strode to her Ready Room and sat down behind her desk. A pile of status reports awaited her review. She ignored them in favor of a few seconds of satisfied reflection. _Voyager_ was back on course with a full larder; they'd left another alien race with a reasonably good impression; they'd established direct contact with Starfleet and with their families for the first time; Joe and B'Elanna were almost ready to give the go ahead for the next slipstream jump; and the Doctor had stretched his limits again--even if the result was a sensationalistic holonovel.  
  
Oh, and the carpets were clean. It had been a very successful few days. In fact, there wasn't much left to accomplish at the moment. Except that white glove inspection she'd promised her first officer.  
  
Janeway smiled as she picked up one of the PADDs on her desk. She decided she'd schedule that inspection with Chakotay tonight.  
  
*  



	6. Epilogue

*  
  
**Epilogue**  
  
"Hey, Doc! You here?"  
  
The Doctor glanced up from his console and saw Lieutenant Paris headed his way, looking pretty pleased with himself. He returned his attention to his console.  
  
"Ah, here you are."  
  
"Yes, who would have thought?" the Doctor asked sardonically, as Paris entered his office.  
  
Tom's complacent smile didn't diminish. "The captain sent me to brief you on the status of Sickbay while you were gone."  
  
As far as the Doctor could tell, everything looked exactly the same as it had when he'd left. "Was there an emergency?"  
  
"Nope. Not even one patient. The crew is disgustingly healthy."  
  
"I suppose that's not surprising, considering their doctor."  
  
Tom grinned again. "Nice to know you came back with your usual humility intact, Doc. How was your trip, anyway?"  
  
"I successfully negotiated a trade for a large quantity of fresh foodstuffs--"  
  
"Yeah, I think Neelix is going to build a fruit centerpiece in your image."  
  
The Doctor ignored that. "And I spent the rest of my time learning more about the Shaal'ra. They are an engaging race. They allowed me to do medical scans on several of the crew." He motioned to his console monitor, his voice rising with enthusiasm. "Their metabolism is amazing, and the rate of their cell regeneration is beyond that of any species I've ever encountered. I now understand why their bodies require no sleep. I also have scans of their brain structure. When one identity is active, the others are completely quiescent. That part of the brain 'rests' as it were. It's like nothing I've ever seen. It could lead to some very valuable research."  
  
"I bet," Tom said. He shook his head. "I still can't imagine sharing my body with three or four other people. Or how weird it would be if Miral had several other fathers."  
  
"If you were Shaal'ra, Miral would only be one identity. You'd be her father, and the other identities would have their fathers." The Doctor had observed Deliin and Tineel with their respective children. He still didn't completely understand what alerted their bodies to switch identities in exact synchronization with each other, but it seemed to work that way, within family groups anyway. It was something he looked forward to researching.  
  
"I guess so," Tom replied. "But who gets to see her walk first? Or talk first?" He waved his hand as the Doctor opened his mouth to explain again. "Never mind. To be honest, Doc, I wouldn't want to have the use of my body for only a few hours a day, or share B'Elanna and Miral--mind or body--with anyone else. Maybe it's selfish of me, but I'm glad it's just the three of us."  
  
"Not at all, Mister Paris. It's human." The Doctor had no desire to share his holomatrix with other identities, despite his admiration for the Shaal'ra. "By the way, how was your talk with your family?"  
  
Tom looked surprised at the question. He shrugged. "Fine."  
  
"I take it 'fine' means successful," the Doctor said.  
  
"My parents were very happy to meet B'Elanna and Icheb. And they adored Miral."  
  
Why wouldn't they? She was a bright, lively, happy child. "What about you and your father?" the Doctor asked.  
  
"We talked." Tom paused for a moment, and then he smiled. "It went...well. Very well."  
  
"That's really no surprise, Lieutenant. Whatever happened between you before, you're family. I believe you once explained to me what that means--to share a history, to endure hardships and come through on the other side, still together."  
  
Tom nodded. "I remember. I guess I was more right than I thought."  
  
"I suppose the law of averages had to fall in your favor at some point, Lieutenant."  
  
Tom grinned, not rising to the bait. "Hey, Doc, about your holonovel--"  
  
"I've decided to delete it."  
  
"What?! Doc, you can't do that!"  
  
The Doctor stared at Tom, startled by his fervor. "Why not? You didn't like it. And aren't you the one who told me the characters were too similar to the _Voyager_ crew?"  
  
"That was constructive criticism. And I never said I didn't like it, exactly. I also told you it had the makings of a bestseller."  
  
"Not if it isn't published," the Doctor said dryly. "In any case, I'm starting a new holonovel, a serious work based on an issue of unprecedented importance."  
  
Tom frowned. "What issue?"  
  
"The repression of holograms. I plan to show the public just how unjustly photonic beings have been treated by the Federation. I'm thinking of calling it 'Up from Bondage.'"  
  
"Sounds, uh, provocative. But that doesn't mean you have to abandon 'Hero for the Times' in the process."  
  
"I have something more important to do, something less frivolous- -"  
  
"Frivolous?" Tom shook his head. "Light-hearted, maybe. But you said yourself there is an underlying message about holograms. Why pass up this opportunity to get public sentiment on your side?"  
  
"Perhaps you've forgotten again that I can't get it published, Lieutenant."  
  
"You can't sign a contract, but I can sign one."  
  
The Doctor stared at Tom with disbelief. "Are you suggesting I publish the holonovel under _your_ name?"  
  
"No. It would still be published under the pseudonym Emerson Holmes. I'll just sign the contract as...the co-writer."  
  
"Co-writer?!"  
  
"Okay, editor."  
  
"Mister Paris, I don't think--" the Doctor stopped as Tom held out a PADD. He took it and read the words on the screen. It was a petition supporting the publication of his holonovel. He scrolled though the names, starting with Neelix and Tom Paris, and saw Chakotay's name, B'Elanna Torres, Tuvok, Harry Kim, both Delaney sisters, and probably three-quarters of the crew. The final name was Captain Kathryn Janeway.  
  
"The crew wants you to have this opportunity, Doctor."  
  
"They do?" The Doctor felt a tug in his emotional subroutines. He was genuinely touched. Then he looked up at Tom. "And you said the crew wouldn't like my holonovel."  
  
Tom cleared his throat. "Right. Anyway, what do you say, Doc?"  
  
"I suppose if you're willing to sign as _editor_ only..."  
  
"Great!" Tom grinned. "Since it's quiet in Sickbay, maybe we should take a quick look at your holonovel, and see where it could use a little editing."  
  
"Very little editing," the Doctor warned as he rose. He wondered what he was getting into as he walked through Sickbay with Tom Paris. "Just remember, the final decisions are _mine_."  
  
"Of course. I do have a few ideas for one of the characters."  
  
"Don't tell me. Don London."  
  
"Every great hero needs a brave and dependable sidekick."  
  
The Doctor rolled his eyes.  
  
"Every great ship also needs a quick, maneuverable shuttlecraft to divert the enemy when necessary, and to help form a two-flank attack, not to mention for the occasional romantic rendezvous. Maybe something like the _Delta Flyer_?"  
  
The Doctor pursed his lips. That idea did have some merit. "I suppose you expect Don London to fly it."  
  
"Only when the EPH is busy saving the _Valorous_."  
  
"I'll have to think about that," the Doctor said. He didn't intend to let Mister Paris have his way _too_ often.  
  
"Just think, this could become a whole series of holoadventures, Doc! The amazing EH and his intrepid crew..."  
  
The Doctor considered that as they entered the turbolift. He supposed he could be a popular holonovelist and still write his serious opus, along with being a doctor, musician, political activist, and whatever else he wanted. He was a hologram after all.  
  
"How about the _Proton Flyer_," Tom suggested as the turbolift doors started to close.  
  
The Doctor snorted. "Perhaps the _Photon Flyer_\--"  


  
End  


**Author's Note:**

> **Next Up: ** "Ripples in Time"--_Voyager's_ jumps through the slipstream have become almost routine, but the crew should have learned by now that just when things seem to be going well, you can't count on them staying that way.


End file.
